


What's In a Proposal?

by viviwithav



Series: What's In a Proposal? (Connor/Reader) Detroit Become Human [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-06-05 16:09:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 43,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15174425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viviwithav/pseuds/viviwithav
Summary: Connor doesn't understand the concept behind the phrase "I love you". In his mind, he thinks that its something you say to close friends he deeply cherishes. So, it'd make sense to propose to solidify his relationship with them, right? Wrong.





	1. With This Ring

**Author's Note:**

> This is a result of a personal headcanon of mine regarding Connor's asexuality, and I'm stumped with the amount of FANTASTIC reader/Connor fanfics I've seen on Tumblr! I've decided to make a short series since I just need to get this out of my system. Also, there isn't a specified gender for the reader since I wanted to make this an experience for everyone to enjoy. I hope you like it! I kind of just... pulled this out of my ass if I'm being completely honest, but I like it!

Coffee?” 

 

My eyes were getting lost in the wall of text before me. 5 dead in a family of 6; youngest child had gone missing. Clear Deviant involvement.

 

“Y/N.” 

 

It took a full minute for Connor’s whisper of a voice to become a fully audible question.

 

“Oh, oh my god I’m sorry. Fuck…” I buried my head into my hands, tired and weary from the countless hours spent bent against a desk. The fluorescent tint of my desk lamp was burned into the innermost cavities of my eyes. 

 

“It’s fine. I would just like to know how you’ll be taking your coffee today.” A soft smile formed on Connor’s lips. 

 

I sighed while attempting to return an equally charming smile. “Kyoto drip, please. No room for sugar.” I reached into my wallet to give Connor some money for the coffee run, but he was already out the door. Surprisingly, androids have access to their funds, if and when employed directly by the government.

 

“See you in a bit!” Connor waved to me as he sauntered through the front door. 

 

Work was always interesting; if I wasn’t preoccupied with prying open doors to apartments laden with dried blood and expired corpses, the rest of my non-existent free time was spent comparing research notes with Connor. Surprisingly, in the midst of all this bureucratic chaos,  I was signed on to work as a group of three alongside Connor and Lieutenant Hank Anderson. 

 

My thoughts on Hank and Connor? They’re an interesting pair, that’s for sure; though if I’m being completely honest, their interactions are fun to watch. They seem to work best as complete opposites, despite their many contradictions. Hank does all of the drinking, Connor does all of the cooking, Hank does all of the complaining, Connor tries to reason with him, and the list goes on. Despite it all, it seems like they’re a perfect duo. 

 

Which makes me wonder why  _ I  _ was asked to join this case. Looking over case files, I wondered to myself why I was chosen, out of all academy graduates. Maybe it was that single Deviant murder I witnessed; to some, its experience, but to me, it’s just dumb luck. I tried to make it an effort to maintain a strictly organized work flow. I found that it was best to create digital copies of physical case files; this gave me the opportunity to work on the cases in my free time.  _ So much blood… so much. _

 

The soft thud of a plastic cup startled me. Pale fingers gently pushed the cup towards me. Connor was leaned against a table, opposite to me. 

 

“I hope that you have been resting, Y/N. I sense that your bodily has been heavily fatigued, albeit more than usual. What's wrong?”

 

Frustrated, I closed all of my open tabs. “I don't get it. You have a missing child with two dead parents, a dead grandma, and two dead siblings. We already confirmed that the perp is another Deviant, but I just…. Don't know how to explain the  _ logic _ behind that.”

Puzzled, Connor's LED ban to flicker and turn with loops of blue. “I'm afraid I don't quite understand your confusion. From analyzing the scene, we were already able to assess the presence of Deviant behavior. Thirium stains were found spread throughout the apartment.”

 

A headache was burning in the back of my head: I pressed my hands against my temples, attempting to suppress the pain. “but, this family had  _ no _ android on file. No title of ownership, nothing.  _ Deviant _ behavior is confirmed to be a consequence of emotional, and physical trauma dealt by the hands of their owners. What would a rogue android have to do with a low income family, and why would it take a little boy?”

 

I could almost hear the subtle twists, and turns in Connor's LED. His left hand was pressed against his mouth as he attempted to form an explanation for the emotional motives of the deviant in question. He was brilliant, but he lacked the human spectrum of emotion. I'd be damned to say that he wasn't trying his hardest, though. 

 

“Perhaps… the deviant had interacted with the boy previously. He could have formed an attachment to the child, and the parents weren't aware of this relationship.”

 

My head was resting in my hands at this point. I rubbed my eyes vigorously before looking up at Connor. In all the muddledness of my blurry vision, I could still make out his gentle features. His brown eyes, almond shaped with delicate creases that framed them perfectly. I tried to muster a smile, even if it was a tired one yearning for hibernation. 

 

“Connor, this is going to be another all nighter.. I can already see it.”

 

“Don't say that.” Connor pushed himself off the table before stepping over to my side. He took a seat next to me, before placing a hand on my shoulder. “We’ll find that Deviant. I'm here to help.” 

 

I rested my head on the desk. I began picking at a stray paperclip until I felt Connor quietly move closer. He was at eye level with me, making perfect eye contact. 

 

“What are you doing tonight, Y/N? If you're not too busy going over case files, I'd like to keep you company.”

 

I had to purposely cut my wide smile short. I was trying so hard to hide the joy. “I'm never too busy to just hang out, Connor.” I was surprised he could hear me; my whisper was so faint. 

 

He smiled in reply before patting me on the back. “Great. I'll arrive at your home once I finish with Hank. I'm trying out more healthy dieting options for him, diets that are higher in micronutrients and fiber.” 

 

I giggled gently as I propped myself up. Gavin was giving me a little shifty eyed glare from behind one of the desk computers.  _ Fuck you bitch. Your fucked up mug looks like you shaved with a lawnmower _ . Connor had probably noticed Gavin by now, he always does. Of course, he simply ignored him as he stood from his seat. 

 

“Speaking of Lt. Anderson, I should see where he is. It's currently 12:27 PM, and he still hasn't arrived to work. I'll see you later tonight then to… compare research notes?” He attempted to wink coyly, but failed. It was almost impossible to not laugh; the action was a mix of childlike spunk, and…. Something akin to “sexy", I suppose? All of his time spent with Hank is really having an effect on him.

 

I winked back. “Yes. Looking forward to it. You're always a great help.” 

 

Connor peered over to Gavin, noticing that his back was turned for a quick second to tend to a deluge of hot coffee that was quickly trickling down his knee. His arms were flailing wildly like a pelican attempting to dock safely into open waters. I shook my head slightly until I focused on Connor again. Our eyes were locked before Connor slid his hand over mine. 

 

He leaned forward, with his lips barely grazing my ear. “I love you. See you tonight.” 

 

I guzzled my coffee right then, and there to hide the skyrocketing body temperature. I almost choked as a small bit of coffee started dripping down my chin.  _ Fuck I'm a mess _ ,  _ fuck fuck. _ I used the sleeve of my jacket to mop up the mess. I was utterly disheveled compared to the likes of Connor. 

 

“I-I love you too, Connor. Tell Ha-Hank that I, uh, said hi.”

 

Connor nodded, and then he was off. My eyes laid an imaginary trail at his path.  _ Those algorithms even charted a gait for him _ .. I attempted to turn my attention to my case files again. I was already looking forward to home, to a long shower, to watching some TV while looking over these same files, and to a home cooked meal with….  _ Shit. _

 

This is embarrassing, again. It wasn’t the first time where my mind was completely overflowing with thoughts unrelated to work. I typically get distracted by unrelated things, like TV shows, movies, catchy songs, the fact that my neighbor never cleans up after their dog during walks. However, other  _ things  _ have been clogging my mind as of late.  _ Things _ that involve the presence of a slender android cloaked in gray, and shrouded in an aura of blue. 

 

To answer a few questions, yes, Connor and I have been spending a lot of time together since we caught a Deviant three months ago. It has become a daily routine at this point; he shows up to my apartment, we sit down for hours looking over a case, we watch a movie until ungodly hours in the night, and Connor often times stays the night. It's perfectly platonic, I swear. Although…. Connor is of the belief that the phrase “I love you" is supposed to be used for close friends. 

 

Despite his limitless knowledge, Connor is still a novice in the realm of social interactions. One time, I caught him picking up someone's dog as he peered so deeply into its eyes, I swear I thought he saw its soul. But getting back to the “I love you” part; I tried explaining the meaning and uses of the phrase. It seemed like Connor understood, at first. 

 

“I see. Then I can use that when referring to close associates, such as yourself and Hank.” 

 

“Oh, um… so… it’s more of a term of.. Endearment. You can use it for family and friends, but in a societal context, it’s more like a romantic term. You know, for lovers!”

 

“Ah. By that reasoning, I can use it for both you, and Hank then.”

 

“Connor, wait-”

 

“I love you, Y/N”

 

And that’s how it all started. I’d feel like an ass if I didn’t reciprocate those same words. Though… I’d be lying if there isn’t a semblance of truth to them.. And would you look at the time. The clock showed 6:39 PM. I’ve been here, sifting through the same case files, listening to the same audio files, and watching the same security footage over and over again. Nothing points to where the Deviant may have escaped to. Everything indicates that this android may have escaped either by foot, car, or he may have just disappeared into thin air. My vision was blurring; it was my cue to catch a cab and get home stat. 

 

It took only a full 10 minutes after I got home for Connor to get to my apartment. I was just stepping out of the shower when the door bell rang. The humidity left phantom imprints on the dusty wooden floor, and droplets streamed down my legs before I managed to open the door. 

 

“Wow, that was fast.”

 

“I managed to convince the Lieutenant to try and sleep early tonight. I found that convincing him to eat copious amounts of food made him sleepy immediately. Chicken and spinach, with legumes” 

 

“You mean you induced a food coma on him,” I yelled from my room as I was getting dressed in an old shirt and shorts. Practical gear for a practical night of lounging.

 

Connor chuckled a bit, with his arms crossed behind his back. “Yes, that. How’s research been on your end, Y/N?”

 

“Um, honestly, I’m really stressed.” I took a sat on my old couch. I stretched my feet out on the table, and Connor sat poised as ever in the spot next to me. “I can’t think, and my appetite is just dead.” 

 

“Maybe you should relax then. A movie, perhaps?” He tilted his head slightly at that suggestion. 

 

“Hm.. Okay. That doesn’t sound bad.” Right before I stood from my seat to turn on the TV, I noticed a small block box sitting at the foot of the table.  _ Huh, what’s that. _

 

Connor, with the alert precision of a bloodhound, immediately scooped up the box before I could even  _ think _ of reaching for it.  _ What the fuck? _ His LED stayed blue, so he wasn’t stressed. His reactions would say otherwise, though. I don’t know what he was trying so hard to hide. 

 

“I actually meant for this to be more of a surprise, per tradition. I just hope that this doesn’t prove to be too much of an inconvenience for you.” Connor turned to me, took my hand by the palm and rested it against his. He was already on bended knee before I could utter another word. My heart was jumping and leaping, begging to rip itself free from my rib cage. I felt sweat collecting within the crevices, and folds of my skin. My throat was burning as my mouth ran dry like an open spring in an arid desert.  My blood was swelling, and I could hardly make out the next words because of the throbbing pulse that echoed throughout my ears

 

“I believe that, at this current point in our relationship, this is the most sensible step to take. I researched that people usually maintain a relationship for longer before moving forward. However, I value what we have, and I have made the calculated decision that this is the correct choice. Y/N, will you marry me?”

 

The last thing I saw was Connor reaching out to me as I fell on the floor. My vision was fading to nothing, with only a single thought running through my mind:  _ Holy shit. _

  
  
  



	2. Frigid Waters, Frigid Weather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cold realizations float to the surface as declarations are exchanged, but feelings stay secret. Dishonesty may be the only weapon in this fight. Connor begins to develop more startling levels of sentience, beyond that of an average android, and it frightens you as you attempt to protect both yourself, and your friend (?).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a bit self conscious of this one. I added my own spin on some of the tech styles in DBH. Hope you guys enjoy this one as much as the first. The first chapter had such a warm reception. Think of this chapter as the BEGINNING of the angst. There will be a slow build to the conclusion, but I promise, the journey will be good!
> 
> I wanted to clarify in this chapter that the reader is also asexual, so if there was any confusion regarding this before, I hope it's cleared up by now! Looking over the first chapter, I realize I wasn't explicit enough, so I added some dialogue to fix that.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kOCkne-Bku4 Also, please listen to this while reading Chapter 2. This informed a lot of the atmosphere in the chapter, even though it's really fucking angsty, but you get me!

 

Lights started shining in my eyes. I couldn’t make out a single detail except for the pure white radiating from my ceiling light. My hands attempted to shield my eyes from the beam; I was wincing at the sheer intensity of what was an otherwise dim light that needed some fixing. I tried orienting myself by looking around; I was definitely on the floor of my apartment, though I don’t know how I got here. The grooves and slopes in the wood panels of my floor carried canyons of dust; my limp arm left a ghost as the dust clinged to my skin. _Floor.. I’m on the floor. How?..._

 

I remember why. I know why I’m on the floor now. The reason was staring directly back at me _Oh no._ His hand was cradling my head; just an inch of manufactured skin keeping my head off the floor. Connor lifted me off the floor with ease. He helped me back on my couch, where I laid like a small and vulnerable kitten. Connor was seated neatly on the floor, his hand still on mine. I definitely had the face of one at that moment. Faintly, a veil of silence was wrapped around us. Its transparent influence was here; I could reach out and wrap myself in a protecive barrier with it if I could. The velvet ring box was left open on the table. A silver ring of entertwined garlands was beside the box; simple, classic, like it was picked by a professional. I could already feel the sweat building on my back. But I had to say something.

 

“Connor.. Connor, I um.. We should talk about this.” _Fuck, I don’t wanna be here right now._ I started to literally squirm in my seat; my legs were pressed up against my chest as I rested my chin on my knee. Connor’s eyes were burning a mark into my own. He looked so soft, like a holy entity wrapped in a halo of light; granted, the light was coming from a dollar store light bulb.

 

Connor placed a hand on my knee. It was cold, but comforting. The faint traces of thirium were flowing through his blue veins. “Y/N, I’m sorry for this, but you’re going to need to explain a few things to me. But first, did you need something to dri--”

 

“Water, please.” I pointed to a cup I had used earlier. Connor gave it to me. I downed the entire damn thing before slamming it on the table. “So, what were your questions?”

 

Connor glanced at the ring before turning back to me. “Did I scare you? Your pulse is elevated, and your blood pressure reads 130/80.”

 

“You.. you caught me off guard, that’s one way to say it.”

 

“But, why? I thought this was normal for people”

 

I slid down to the floor, and I took Connor’s hands into my own. “Yeah, I know it’s normal, it definitely is. But, Connor… getting engaged, married, staying with the same person for your entire life, you do that with someone who you’re in a romantic relationship with.”

 

Connor only listened as he processed my words. I smiled a bit. “Are you confused about sex? Need the birds and the bees talk?”

 

His eyes widened slightly, but his voice stayed steady. “No, I’m aware of the biological process of reproduction. And personally, I’m not interested in sex. I understand you share that sentiment,” he said with a half smile.

 

I nodded. My fingers began tracing circles against the ridge of Connor’s thumb.

 

“My definition of love is one that I have acquired directly from Merriam-Webster’s. Love was defined as being “an intense feeling of deep affection.” Other synonyms are fondness, tenderness, warmth, and intimacy. I believe those are all emotions that I feel towards you.

 

“And let me guess.. Those are also similar feelings that you have towards Hank, yes?”

 

Connor seemed a bit stunned at first, but he still nodded. His eyes were tracing a line between my eyes, lips, the entirety of my face. He was trying so hard to read my thoughts; I read as an incomprehensible piece of text.

 

“What you feel is “platonic” love. Platonic, as in you have nonsexual, nonphysical, and non - ROMANTIC feelings of love for me, and Hank.”

 

Connor was silent, and I noticed that his LED turned to yellow. Faint clicking filled the air.. _Yellow?... That’s the first time that’s happened. Oh god, what does it mean??_

 

“It seems that I lack a complete understanding of what “love” is.” Connor withdrew his hands, and reached out for the ring on the table. He balanced it between the tips of both his index finger, and his thumb. “But, I am still confused with one thing in particular.” I didn’t notice the craftsmanship of each, individual leaf until now. _Good choice_.

 

His words brought me back to reality. I was spacing out; I didn’t notice how my sweaty palms were leaving an imprint on Connor’s knee. I didn’t even realize my hand was there.

 

“What are you still confused about?....” I stared at him as he struggled to put his thoughts into words. Connor slowly flipped the ring between his fingers, much like he usually does with his other coins. For some reason, it seemed almost like.. He was in pain. Speechless, nervous, and struggling to speak a language so foreign to him. This was unlike Connor. _Is he.. Is he genuinely feeling right now?_

 

Connor finally spoke, eyes full of what seemed like sorrow, but bewilderment was the dominant emotion. “How do you feel about me then, Y/N?”

 

The back of my skull lit on fire. I tried to utter the words with a smile; it wasn’t a comforting one. The infrastructure of my lips was faulty, and weak. “I.. I.. heh. I… I love you like you would a friend, Connor. These feelings are platonic, non-sexual, and chaste.”

 

“I’m sorry, Y/N, but what I am reading says otherwise. I think.. You’re wrong about these feelings just being ‘platonic’. My comprehension of love is skewed, but I believe you yourself feel something different.”

 

I couldn’t breathe. I almost stood up until Connor reached for my wrist. There wasn’t any resistance.

 

“Y/N, are you lying to me right now?” His eyes wouldn’t leave me. They excavated my heart, upheaving every truth that I was trying so hard to hide.

 

“I’m not lying to you, Connor.” I lied. I didn’t want to say a single thing, I didn’t even know what I was feeling. I wanted to say “I love you” like I have been for the past few months, but this version of the phrase is an altered one. _How long have I been feeling like this?_ Knots contorted my insides.

 

Connor’s grip tightened only slightly, but it loosened immediately. He retracted his hand, and he put the ring away. The velvet box finally disappeared from my sight. I could breathe again; I let out an audible laugh. I wasn’t happy, though.

 

“I made a mistake, and for that, I apologize Y/N. It seems that.. I have misread the nature of our relationship. I hope this doesn’t affect anything for us as.. Friends.” His LED was now blue; the primary state of peace.

 

I knew one thing, clearly, in my mind; I did love Connor, even if the meaning was a mystery to me. One thing came first, and it was who Connor was to me, and the rest of the world. I leaned forward and wrapped my arms around him. I pressed his head in the crook of my neck.

 

“Connor, it doesn’t change a single thing. This was just a simple mistake, ok?” He wrapped his arms around me as well. His body melted into mine. Physical intimacy at its best; just the way I like it. Even then, I felt the heat return to my face. Were these… _tears?_ My eyes became heavy, but I had to hide them.

 

“Y/N, I enjoy these moments. I treasure them.”

 

“I do, too. Trust me.” I whispered softly into his hair. My hands played with the hairs on the back of his head. I felt like I was going to burst at that moment. But I let the silence take hold. We held each other for what seemed like just moments; this fleeting jubilance was new for me. After living a life of tragedies, I thanked my stars for being born in the same era as the person before me. _Person… Connor, a person.. Not android._

 

I had to pull away. My heart was ringing an alarm throughout my body, and my blood was racing to the individual ends of my body. But then, Connor's hand was already tracing the shape of my face. A face so pure, and so soft, and so unlike Connor. My face became flushed, red like the fresh petal of a rose. Oh, his eyes, his eyes told  me so much that he couldn't translate. I saw it all; yearning, desire, admiration. This frightened me.

 

“Uh.. yeah, Connor?” _Really? That's all I could say?_ I tried again. “Is there… something wrong?”

 

He shook his head. “Nothing, Y/N. Can I.. ask you something?”

 

My hand was already on his. I was lost, unaware of the sudden sentience of my own body. “Yes.” I whispered.

 

“Is it normal to have the urge to kiss another person…?”

 

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck… FUCK._

 

As I leapt to my feet, I nearly knocked over my table. I nearly sprinted for the front door. I stopped myself . He was flabbergasted, stunned, mortified, confused. _Why is he doing this??? What did I do??? He isn't supposed to feel these things!!!_ I was hyperventilating at this point.

 

“Y/N, Y/N, are you okay?” he tried to reach for me, and I had the audacity to strike his hand.

 

_No … NO._

 

Heartbroken wouldn't suffice. Neither would sad, or disappointed. Broken…. Broken was the right word.

 

“No, I can't do this to you. There's no--.” I was crying. I couldn't hold it in anymore. I'm so fucking weak. I know the beginnings of Deviant behavior. Sudden, human like emotions, empathy, and compassion, in addition to instinctual reactions

 

“Y/N, please. I'm sorry if what I said was inappropriate.  I don't understand what's happening. I, I-." His LED was red, it was twisting and turning rapidly at a rate I’ve never seen before now. I can’t believe I’m seeing this; Connor was stuttering. He didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t prepared for this at all.

 

“Con- Connor, I - I can’t - We -.” This night was a disaster. I wish Connor didn’t come. I wish I never hurted him. If there was any moment to die, it would be right now. I wanted to reach out, and comfort one of the most important, no, most important person in my life. What I just committed was an atrocity.

 

I opened the door; the cold air blew away the loose papers scattered throughout my apartment. Connor’s LED was all I saw in the chaos. We stood, staring at each other in silence. My breathing polluted the soundscape. I was still gasping as I tried to regain composure. Connor was focused on the floor; he couldn’t look at me.

 

Connor finally looked up. His hair bunched up into a tangled mass of strands. His tie had come loose, and his collar was eschew. For once, I have the chance to witness Connor disheveled, not immaculate. _My fault, this is my--_

 

“Y/N, would you like for me to leave? You're experiencing a high level of distress.”

 

My eyes were sunken, like craters tearing into my skin. “..... yeah… please, please leave and go home. I can call a taxi for yo--"

 

“It's fine.  I'm already doing that right now.” And doing that he was. Script lit up his eyes with a ghostly glow. Connor stepped forward with small steps up until he stopped at the door frame. His back was facing me, but I was already looking over to an empty corner in my living room. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Connor reaching up his hand as he tried to cover his LED. He was trying to pass it off as a head scratch. It didn't work.

 

“.. things will be ok tomorrow, right, Y/N?”

 

The words burned as they left my lips. “.. we should stop these visits.. for awhile. Keep it strictly professional.”

 

Silence.

 

“I'm… I'm sorry.”

 

“It's not your fault, Y/N. Human nature, it's a confusing thing to grasp, and I failed.”

 

And then he was gone. He walked, didn't turn back, and then he was gone. I waited until I closed the door to let the rest of my tears flow. My hands traced the surface of the door knob as I locked the door. I turned off the lights, I picked up all of my paperwork, and then I limped to my bedroom.

 

I fell face first into the nearest pillow. I took my comforter into my arms as I let myself decompose in my bed. Stale, and overdue for a cleaning, my sheets reeked of what seemed like mildew. Anything was good enough to hide these tears. The rest of my night was spent sobbing, gasping for air as my lungs caved from the deadly impact of tonight’s events. The pain, the agony, the misery robbed me of my body; I was caught in a ceaseless bout of sorrow. There was nothing more that I could do.

 

The night passed before my eyes. My temples were sore, and my throat was dry. Weak, I tried drinking water straight from my bathroom faucet. I submerged my face in a vat of cold water until my pores were pricked with numbness. I dried my face with an old towel, soft, but old. I gazed into the mirror, and God, did I look like shit. Bags that had already formed under my eyes, grew only larger. I was deprived of sleep, rest, peace, everything imaginable that benefits the human psyche. I was afraid to look at the clock, but I needed to know how many hours of sleep I could cram before work. _5:04 AM. Oh… so, none._ And with that, I showered, got dressed, ate a small breakfast of jam on toast, and off I went.

 

I almost missed my stop. Last night had taken a toll on me, and I fell asleep immediately after taking my seat. I caught my stop just in time after we hit a pothole in the road. I walked in a serpentine fashion, too tired and too delirious to maintain a straight path on my way to DPD Central.

 

Front desk workers said their formal hellos; I returned a couple half-assed “morning’s”. The familiar tint of the white lights were waiting for me as I sat at my desk, and logged into my desktop. I winced at the blue light; this was going to be a long day. Disintegration seemed like a far off fantasy, and I was begging for it. Within minutes, I was already dozing off. I caught myself mid-snore. _God, jesus fuck…. Coffee, I need coffee._ But alas, as always, I forgot to pick up some on the way to work.

  
That is, I previously _needed_ coffee. On the corner of my desk was a 16 oz, plastic cup of plain black, Kyoto drip coffee, filled to the brim with ice cubes that gently clinked together as I took the cup. There was no note, nothing, but I already knew who was up to this. And lo and behold, Connor was passing by, sneaking a peek at the state of his bait. I mouthed the words “thank you”, but Connor was already seated next to Hank; he had the surly countenance of a wayward sailor eager for his rum, and something to kill. My train of thought was derailed by the sight of Hank, a cryptid so rare during the early hours of the morning, that I had forgotten the drama of the night prior. I’ll keep maintaining this facade; Lord knows I need it. Then, why is it that Hank was glaring at me so intently? Did he... know somehow?


	3. Futile, I Am

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 72 hours have passed, a Deviant is running wild, and a little boy needs to be found and brought home. Connor has hardly spoken to you, and Hank wants to know what the fuck is going on. Good luck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to get chapter 3 out!! The resulting word count ended up being almost twice as long as Chapter 2, and that's because I thought the second chapter was... well... kind of shitty writing lmao. I also wanted to do some world building OUTSIDE of the main romance plot, so there's an interrogation scene, and a lengthy interaction between the reader, and Hank. 
> 
> I hope you guys like it! I'm so TIRED, BUT I HOPE I MADE YOU GUYS PROUD.

 

More than 72 hours have passed, but the paperwork was endless. A couple security cameras over in the south side of Detroit picked up the image of a man in his 20s, with a similar build to that of the Deviant in question. What seemed to be an endless pursuit, was finally close to coming to an end. The last few nights proved to be rather, you could say, fruitful hours spent researching as I was mostly undistracted. I guess that’s… one could thing from this travesty. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy that we’re about to arrest the android responsible for the death of an entire family, but that leaves so many open ended questions about the child. The child will be coming home to an empty house, a broken family tree, and no support. It’s going to be painful for him.

 

“Y/N, you in there?”

 

It sounded like the voice of an older man, someone gruff, someone dissidently pissed. I was too fixed on what I was going to do for the child in question.

 

“HEY!”

 

I almost gave myself whiplash as I turned. It was Hank. _Oh my god, Hank. Hank, who’s friends with-_

 

“You’re lookin’ more..” He gestures to my entire body. “Fucked up than usual.” Somewhere in his voice was a tinge of care, and of worry; wish his face demonstrated that.

 

“Ye-yeah, I’m uh, ok. Just… didn’t sleep at all while looking over this case. A lot of things on my plate.” _Shouldn’t have said that_. Hank is a bloodhound when it comes to intent. He frowned harder than usual before placing his hand on my shoulder.

 

“Let’s talk. Office, Y/N.”

 

_Shit. First name basis._

 

“You… don’t have an office, though.” I meekly pointed to his desk, which I regretted immediately after seeing Connor peruse files on his desk top.

 

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Hank waved for me to follow him.

 

Like a prisoner on death row, I shuffled sluggishly behind Hank as we made our way to an empty office. I saw Connor on my way; his eyes widened with panic and that alone made me aware of what exactly was happening, and I wanted to run. He’s becoming more emotional by the day, and it’s not good; androids aren’t meant to exhibit that level of emotional comprehension and I prefer to not see my… friend.. Taken away in a goddamn box. _Maybe Hank can’t catch me… he’s… you know, Hank_. But, I was already trapped between him and a desk; the door was locked and my chances of escaping dissipated like my confidence as Hank bore into my soul with just a look.

 

Hank kicked out a chair. “Take a seat.” I sat down immediately. Hank struck the fear of God into me, and I wasn’t ready to meet the Grim Reaper firsthand. I’d sooner let the plague take me. There were no words as Hank only hovered over me, waiting for a reaction. Operating the tension like a seasoned interrogator, he stood directly in front of me; his eye contact was unrelenting, and overpowering.

 

“Cut the shit.” The venom left his mouth like a gunshot. I had trouble looking at him directly.

 

“What shit? I don’t get it.” I started fumbling with the corners of my sleeves. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Gavin slinking by like a snake, interested in the quiet drama unfolding in a walled off dimension. I had to grip my hands to prevent myself from flipping him off. _Fuck face_.

 

“Connor, for a piece of glorified plastic, has been moody as shit for the past few days. I noticed he was like this after one of your routine ‘study dates’.” Hank threw in air quotes for extra emphasis.

 

I tried to play it cool, but I can only try so hard with a collar drenched in sweat. “Ask Connor. I don’t know why he’d be upset. When we hanged out a few nights back, we just did the usual.”

 

“So did the usual include the typical verbal foreplay, and cuddling?”

 

 _Shit_.

 

I nearly kicked the table at Hank. My knee jerked upward at his words, and I felt a sharp jolt reverberate throughout the nerves of my thigh. I grunted loud to hide the yelp as I started nursing my leg in my arms. _How does he know!?_

 

Hank, with a triumphant, but dissapointed smirk, paced around the room with his hands trailing the table. “Heh, so it’s one of those. Connor overshares; he talks to me about everything even if I don’t want to hear it.” He quickly snapped around. “Did you put him up to that ‘I love you’ bullshit? ‘Cause let me tell you, this kid is confu-”.

 

_No more._

 

“Precisely. He IS confused.” There was heat in my words. My lungs ejected the burning fire in my chest; but I wasn’t going to stop just because Hank was utterly stunned. “He’s confused, that’s why I sent him home. Did he tell you what happened the rest of the night? Huh?” Hank, startled, shook his head slightly as his mouth was slightly agape. “What a surprise.. He proposed to me, Hank. Do you know how FUCKING scary that is? He thinks he has feelings that he CAN’T EVEN comprehend. And you know how Deviant behavior starts. You’re not stupid, Hank.”

 

Judging from the look on Hank’s face, he really didn’t know about the proposal, and yet he still stood as I continued my tirade. I could feel the spit collecting in my mouth, and I had to pause before continuing any further. Half of my body was already leaning forward, with my elbow digging into the metal surface of this aged desk. My voice was barely a whisper at this point. A scowl was clearly present on my face. Nosy onlookers started staring into the office; some tried to be more tactful by hiding their prying eyes in between the leaflets of their manila folders. Connor was one of them, and the look of dolefulness painted a picture of the internal storm in his body.

 

“Hank.. I can’t say, or do anything with Connor the way he is. He’s.. he’s becoming more and more human by the day, and I don’t know what the FUCK to do. I’m burning a candle at both ends, and both my hands are full, and I do--”

 

“What the fuck does that even me--”

 

“I DON’T KNOW. I DON’T KNOW, HANK. I DON’T KNOW ANYTHING AT THIS POINT.”

 

I didn’t know why Hank looked so shocked, so taken aback. But I soon found out; a single tear was rolling down my cheek. My reflection in the glass walls of the office displayed a person who was at the end of their wit, a person who was brimming with unbridled frustration and rage. I was a confused animal on display for the world to see.. Because I didn’t know how to handle one personal dispute.

 

Despite Hank being a tall glass of alcoholic tendencies, and unaddressed emotional trauma, he wasn’t a prick. He offered a sympathetic look to me before promptly lowering the blinds to the office. He went as far as to dim the lights and double check the audio consoles attached to the glass. I sat defeated, deflated, and dead in my chair as I struggled to keep an upright position. Grief’s embrace left a hole in my chest, and I had no energy to fight against it.

 

As he walked over to the seat opposite to me, Hank placed a comforting hand on my shoulder as a gesture of solace. I didn’t react to it.

 

“Listen, kid.. Y/N, I didn’t know anything about the proposal. I just thought, you know, you were being playful, or something. You two always seemed kind of close, so I tried to ignore it. Not my business.” Hank shrugged as he looked off in the distance. I knew who he was looking at, who else would he be looking at during this intervention? I chuckled, surprisingly, as I wasn’t in the state for humor.

 

“Heh, funny.. You’re still getting involved, you know?”

 

“Yeah, and? I.. don’t really like androids. Plastic fucks annoy the shit out of me. They’re all detached and shit, and they don’t have the same experience as a detective who’s been a part of the force for decades.”

 

“Then, you understand why we decided to keep some distance, right? If I sabotage this, which is highly likely, that means we lose Connor.”

 

Hank nodded as I struggled to find the right words. The starch of my shirt left creases that cut into my skin. I pinched at the corners of my worn sleeve, its edges were fringed and jagged from years of overuse. I ruminated over the weight of my words, the intent, the delivery, everything.

 

“Never before, have I met someone like Connor. I’ve had difficulties, my entire life, with… simply functioning in society as a ‘normal’ human being. Connor was one of the few people, along with, you know, you, who embraced me. And.. yeah, in a sense, I DO love him because of that.”

 

No response from Hank. The words were starting to settle on the gears in Hank’s mind. His finger tapped at the desk with the jittery rhythm of a woodpecker.

 

“Alright, I’ll take that. Clean yourself up. You’re a mess.” Magically, Hank pulled a tissue out of thin air; how it got there, I have no idea. The tissue was

“I understand. But, how’s Connor any different to you? You.. didn’t really like him at first, right?”

“Fu-ck no. I hated that kid. He was assigned to me, like some high tech baby sitter, and I was stuck with him. But.. here’s the thing about people.” Hank leaned forward, gesturing for me to come closer. I leaned forward too, only a few inches from his face. I could smell last night’s dinner on his jacket. _Chicken Feed? Again?_

 

“People tend to.. Grow attached to things. And Connor.. Well, he’s different, simple. One day, he’s tryna tell me what I can or can’t eat, next day he’s taking a bullet for me, no questions asked. He’s growing real fast, just like you said. Kid wore me down.”

 

That made me smirk. I’m glad I wasn’t the only one who felt that way. “You’re right.. That’s why I’m so scared.”

 

“He’s acting like a Deviant, so you’re freaked out. You’re afraid he’s going to get decommossioned, or whatever, so you’re trying to put up some distance between you and Connor.”

 

My eyes were about to pop out of my socket. I looked like an ape from the way my jaw hung loose. “Yeah.. exactly.”

“But you’re right to do that. Keep your distance.”

 

I felt my face fall flat. The futility of that command, however, was noted by Hank. He shook his head with his typical brand of disgruntled weariness.

 

“What people do in their spare time is none of my business, but you fucking up means consequences that you can’t fix; at all, or ever.”

 

Hank was being grimly oppressive today; I could have walked into the DPD in a chicken suit and he would be none the wiser.

 

“... I won’t fuck anything up. I’m not as experienced, or as smart as some people that’s true, but in short, I’d die for Connor. Please don’t think that I’ll be a failure, please Hank.”

 

Hank sat up in pride, scratching his beard as he let out a quick laugh. “It’s the experience, kid. I’ll tell you about it later. I just got.. One question for you before we get back to work. Got an interrogation that needs attending to.”

 

I nearly threw myself across the table, eyes filled with the thirsting prospect of closing a case. “Wait, you caught the Deviant we were after? Yo-you’re serious? Ho-”

 

“Yeah, yeah, holy shit. I’m going to need you to sit in with us, but I need to get something from you, got it?”

 

I nodded like an overzealous puppy. _More work means more distractions._

 

Hank crossed his arms as he leaned back in his chair. He looked down at the table, and then up at me. “How do you feel about Connor, Y/N?”

 

 _Trap. Fuck, it’s a trap._ That question sent me into a dizzying frenzy of several hand gestures. I started pointing directly at Hank’s face, an act of utter defiance and direspect that would otherwise have gotten me a write up, but oh did he love it.

 

“I. I do-. Connor is - he’s my-. I guess he’s-. How dare yo-.”

 

“Say no more. Cool your jets. Walk with me.” Hank had to cover his mouth before his laugh escaped him. I scowled as fixed my shirt and blazer as I picked my pride back up from the table. This conversation would come to haunt me, as most usually do. An overactive mind leads to pondering deep into the abyss of 3 A.M. I adjusted everything from my hair to my shoes like I was attending a funeral.

 

“Jesus Christ, it’s an interrogation not a fucking runway!”

 

He wasn’t wrong, it was an interrogation like any other but this would mark the first interrogation that I’ll be participating in. Didn’t want to look like a complete slob in front of the android we were going to lock up, no way. Before heading over to the back room, Hank headed to his desk to call over Connor. My esophagus tied itself into a knot as Connor looked over to me with apprehension. His eyes reflected a visceral level of panic typically seen in mortally wounded animals. Hank led the way to the holding room, as he wasn’t being paid to manage two adults with the mentality of middle school aged children, on top of apprehending a Deviant who had the homicidal kill streak of the year.

 

Connor and I awkwardly tailed Hank, swaying side by side as we took careful steps to maintain physical distance. I kept my eyes straight, focused on the goal of securing the safety of the wayward child. The aged, stone corridors of the building eventually gave way to metal panels reinforced with steel bolts. It was my first time down in the lower levels of DPD Central; my breath fluctuated at the turn of every corner, and with every step I took on this worn stone path. And then, we finally arrived; facing me was a tinted glass box that carried _him_. His body was defaced beyond repair, and his blue-white skeleton was visible under torn translucent layers of skin. This was real, I was here, and I’ve never been more nervous to attack.

 

Hank’s hand slammed against Connor’s shoulder, yet he held his ground. “Alright, you two stay here till my call,” Hank glared at Connor, “And I mean it. Don’t fuck around.” He moved onto me after getting an affirmative nod from Connor. “You, I’m going to need you in there once I wear him down a little. You got your psychological tool kit, right?”

 

 _Psychoanalytic criminology, but ok._ “You bet your ass.” I hope the confidence was obvious as I found it difficult to maintain my voice at a whisper. Hank tried to hide a smile before masking it with a shroud of disgust. He ripped open the door, and off he was to tear into our suspect. Which meant.. _Shit_ . It was just me and Connor. Alone. Unsupervised. _Wait, we’re two grown adults._ I wish I believed my own words. I side stepped to the right, approximately two steps from Connor’s side of the room. _Keep a distance, keep quiet. Keep a distance, kee-_

 

“How bad was sleep? Don’t lie.”

 

 _He noticed_? Trying to be as casual as possible, I shrugged. “I think… 3? No 5 hours?”

 

Connor’s smirk was visible from the side. “I know at least 5 sleep aids off the top of my head that I could recommend to you, right now.”

 

I dipped my head to hide bags under my eyes. “I’m fine, don’t worry. I’ll have the BEST sleep of my life once we find the kid.”

 

Connor solemnly nodded. His arms were positioned behind his back as his thumbs were entertwined in a nervous fiddle. Silence again. The muffled demands of Hank were the only thing filling the gap between us. The criminal theatre happening before  me took a backseat to the thoughts of Connor reaching out to bridge the gap between him, and I with his hands. My hands yearned for the touch of his fingers.

  
  


“I like that song you showed me.”

 

 _He liked it??_ “Oh, song? Which…”

 

Connor struggled to look straight ahead, away from me to maintain our agreement, but he couldn’t help but smile. “That one by Ella Fitzgerald, the ‘Queen of Jazz’, so to speak.” The corners of my lips leapt up to my cheeks. I felt my cheeks become dyed with pink.

 

“Are you referring to her cover of “Dream a Little Dream of Me”?

 

“Yes, it’s a really good song. I like being able to say I listen to music, and that there are songs that I really like. Thank you.. For that.”

 

 _Shit, I might pass out_.

 

My breath was dispelled from my body, and I was helpless to let it go. “It’s my pleasure. Funny thing, the song was more of a pop standard that was covered by a lot of other artists, like Mamas and the Papas. I can.. Show you a couple more songs, if you want.” My whisper hardly had the resistance to even cut through a thread. I’m aware of the promise I made to Hank, and I’m aware of why I went through with this temporary accord with Connor, but like most humans I am attracted to self-sabotage. I couldn’t say no to Connor, because denying Connor would be the equivalent of denying myself the opportunity to embrace the good parts of my life.  

 

Connor slowly swayed as he stepped over to my side. He looked down at his hands before speaking, weighing the right words to use on an invisible scale. “I’d love that, and-” He cut himself off as we exchanged soft gazes. This was wildly inappropriate considering the fact that Hank, turning redder than the devil’s anus, was just one room over interrogating a half broken Deviant. For all we knew, that was another world, over yonder and beyond from where we stand.

 

“I want to show you new things that you haven’t seen yet. New songs, new movies, new places. The next time we hang out, that is..” Connor’s voice faltered before dying out completely. My heart dropped with the gradual dissipation of his words, the cheer sucked out of them; his head dropped before he started walking back to his side of the room. A weak smile was all that I could put up at that moment, an indicator that I hoped would offer this situation brief levity.

 

“If I’m being honest… Y/N… what we’re doing does hurt, but I know that it’s better for the both of us. You’re right.. I still have a lot to learn, and more importantly, I also don’t want to ruin what we have. Imagine going back to day 1, right?” With words so reassuring, how did he still manage to look so sad?

 

“We’ll do this for as long as it takes, ok, Y/N?”

 

The words wrapped around my heart before engulfing it in a deluge of woe, I was being strangled by the consequences of my own proclamation. I was contradicting myself, my mind demanded that I keep in accordance to the ground rules that I had laid down, but my heart wanted to rebel, loudly at that. It’s an invitation I have to turn down, because it’s the least I can do.

 

“Thank you..” I tipped my head to Connor, a meager gesture of respect as I hid my heavy eyes.

 

Hank slammed the door behind him. Sweaty and breathless, his voice was hoarse until I handed him a cup of water from one of the nearby tables.

 

“Ok, I managed to wear him down a little. You, go in there and try to figure out the location of the child. He's unwilling to give me anything on his intentions, so we need to figure out where the kid is.”

 

Connor reached out to Hank to adjust the collar of his shirt, only to back away once Hank batted his hand away.

 

“Connor- stop that shit. S’not the time.”

 

“Sorry, Lieutenant. Are you sure you want for Y/N to go in alone? Captain Fowler said this Deviant was extremely violent and unpredictable, right?”

 

I hovered in between Hank and Connor. Connor seemed worried, almost panicked in a sense.

 

“I urge you to remember back to the incident with Ortiz’s android.”

 

Judging from the look on Hank's face, this android was one that seemed to leave a foul, and indelible memory. For a second, Hank mused over his previous action before speaking boldly.

 

“L/N here can take it. Kid trained for this day.”

 

_Thanks… Hank._

 

I cleared my throat and fixed my hair again for good measure before walking forward to the door. My hand stayed on the knob, hesitance preventing me from carrying through with a simple motion. _What if… what if I fuck up? Aw, the kid, the kid…_ Sweat dripped down the side of my trembling cheek, staining the collar of my shirt on impact. I could hear their feet shuffling behind me, waiting, measuring my next move.

 

The palms of my hand were already humid and unable to twist only piece of metal separating me from justice. And yet, I couldn't do it.

 

“Y/N, here.”

 

Connor's voice was the anchor that kept me rooted, and steady. He pressed a tissue to my forehead, dabbing it quickly before fixing my blazer, his cold fingers leaving traces of his presence. He placed his hands on my shoulders, his thumb pressed against the sides of my neck. A slow fire was building in his eyes, stoked with faith as he stared into me.

 

“The Lieutenant is right. You've worked your entire life to do this, Y/N. I'm not going to tell you to do your best, because that's the minimum for you. Good luck.” The words caused my chest to bloom and blossom into a garden of self assuredness, I was close to losing my footing and just falling over in an instant. But not today, swooning can make its scheduled appearance at another time.

 

A triumphant smile stretched across my face as I patted Connor on the shoulder. This bridge between us was stalwart, and trustworthy. _My anchor, my friend, my Connor._ Hank was a mixture of anger, confusion, and outright frustration as he leaned into a corner.

 

 _Alright, tear this shit up._ I opened the door, and took a seat right across from my prized game, the robotic enigma that has been haunting me like a ill calculated mistake. Worn, tired, and sloppily dressed in winter rags that aged his otherwise youthful appearance.

 

I opened up a pocket notebook I had tucked in my blazer. The Deviant scoffed, quietly mocking at the incredulously voyeurist nature of this vocal foreplay. I flipped through the pages to a tabbed section: _Aggressive, domineering, a bit of a sadist. All hints point towards insecurity and fear of judgement._ I turned the page; the Deviant started shaking his leg. _Impatient, sensitive. I know the right play, I think._

 

I slid the notebook off to the side. I, too, folded my arms and propped one leg over the other as I nonchalantly leaned back in my chair. 5 minutes passed as I stared at him dead center. I quirked a tiny smile, setting off a series of new gestures in the Deviant; his hand was open, palm pressed downward on the chilling metal of the desk. His eyes were composed of childish rage, and confused nervousness.

 

“Sorry for the bullshit, Andrew. That's your name, right?”

 

Andrew was displeased, taken aback by my indignance.

 

“What name do you prefer, then? What, is ‘Andrew’ too soft?”

 

“.... I like Andrew just fine. Who the fuck are you?”

 

_He's talking; wonderful._

 

“You can call me whatever you want. Bitch, cunt, whore, but my friends call me Y/N.”

 

Andrew, cuffed to the table, swiveled slightly in his seat, his arms now in his lap.

 

_Defensive body language._

 

“Ok, bitch. What would you like to know?”

 

I put my feet on the table, 5 inches away from him. “How annoying was the fat bitch?”

 

_Take the bait. Come on, take the fucking bait._

 

His eyebrow arched up with a perplexed expression, his lips pursed. “I don’t get the question.”

 

“What did the fat bitch do, Andrew? Did she give you a curfew, a bed time? Some shit that a grown.. Well, man, wouldn’t need.”

 

Mouth slightly agape, Andrew stared at me with complete derision. In the span of a second, maybe even less than that, I had become the object of his rage.

 

“I’d rather not talk about her. She started getting antsy when she found out her husband was cheating.. Decided to take that frustration out on me..”

 

 _Ah._ “That would explain the scar along your neck.” I pointed to the strip of skin hiding underneath his collar. “I’m guessing she was trying to hide it, so as to, you could say, maintain the illusion of perfect domesticity?”

 

Andrew avoided eye contact, instead focusing his attention on the two mirror to our right. “Fuck, you could say that… Bitch was a sadist.”

 

“And I’m also guessing that your original owner, won’t say their name, but, they brought you along with them a lot whenever they visited the.. Bitch in question’s house, right?”

 

“Absolutely.”

 

 _Getting somewhere._ “And your owner, she was ok with this?”

 

“She didn’t care. She got paid a monthly stipend for every time we came to visit. She struck a deal with the dead bitch. For $1,000 a month, she bought a punching bag, and her silence.” Hw darkly chuckled before continuing. “I guess she wanted something… real, something that looked human to beat on.”

 

“And that’s when I’m guessing, you met this boy, correct?” I slid out a picture of the missing child. I kept a personal copy of his photo, hard copy, as a sort of talisman. His eyes were round and filled with the youthful vigor that all children deserved. _I’m bringing you home_.

 

Had I blinked, I would’ve missed the look of shock and terror in Andrew’s eyes. The boys eyes injected a trembling fear into Andrew, hands unsteady as they shook with the religious fervor of a devout Christian repenting their sins. Aware of his slip, he clasped his hands in between his thighs, locking them in place. It eventually got him to stop shaking enough for him to talk.

 

“Kid? The kid wasn't even there when I showed up. He probably ran off; God, or whatever, knows I would've.” His hands hit the table as he tried to brush off the beads of sweat rolling down his neck.

 

“So, you think the kid just ran off?”

 

“No shit"

 

 _Next phase._ “Where's the kid, Andrew? You took a small boy, age 5, 4”5, from his home after slaughtering his entire family?”

 

Out of all responses, Andrew only responded with laughter, a tired and breathy laugh as he curls into a ball of riotous mockery.

 

“Y/N, the foreplay isn’t enough for you, and here you are trying to get me to cum on the first try?”

 

 _Disgusting._ “Yeah, guess you could say so. How do you like it… Rough, scathing… soft?” _How does pillow talk even work…?_

 

Whatever trash I was spilling out of my mouth, it seemed to be working; I hope, I think. Andrew leaned forward with a mischievous smile bending at the corners of his lips.

 

“Why the fuck would I take a kid??? He's a walking liability.”

 

I was suddenly possessed by wrathful rage, swaying to the animalistic hunger for blood. “oh, so you mean you don't give a shit about a kid who used to clean you up after the mess his mom made.”

 

Speechless; Andrew and dumbfounded. I bared my fangs, unrelenting as I tore into his naked wounds. “This ‘walking liability’, according to a journal you had kept in your bedroom, liked calling you Andy, liked talking to you about his favorite dinosaurs, and he had the FUCKING goodness in his he--”

 

Leaping forward, the table jolted and knocked against my chest even as I slid my chair back. Upon turning back, I shot a glare at the mirror, knowing what Hank and Connor were planning. _Not now. I'm so close. I need to break him_. It seemed to work as the door stayed shut, while Andrew hovered only s breath away from me. His pupils were dilated, shaking and darting as I maintained a smug facade.

 

“Mad, are we?”

 

“THAT KID WAS THE ONLY GOOD THING IN THAT FUCKING HELLHOLE, THAT FAMILY DIDN'T DESERVE HIM, I NEEDED HIM. NOT THEM, ME--"

 

“SO WHERE THE FUCK IS HE, ANDY? WHERE DID YOU HIDE THE KID?!”

 

I took the image of the young boy, and planted it before Andrew’s eyes, a reminder of the consequences of his actions.

 

“LOOK AT THIS BOY, THIS KID WHO SHOWED YOU THE ONLY SHRED OF KINDNESS THROUGHOUT YOUR INSIGNIFICANT LIFE.” Spit flew from my mouth as I attempted to balance myself against the gravitational pressure of the situation, suspended on a game of morally gray limbo. Andrew’s eyes flitted with several frames of conflicting anguish, and disastrous rage before finally curling into a blubbering mass of tears. Unable to speak, Andrew was in his chair, balled up like a pill bug.

 

“I-I-I-... I didn’t mean to drop him.”

 

A deathly silence took hold of me. I stood up, at glacial speeds, as I looked down upon him, like a vulture waiting for their prey to give way.

 

“.... where.”

 

“I… I lef-, I dro-ped-ped him in th-the ravine. It was an ACCIDENT.”

 

It hit me. I sprinted from the room, searching and reaching for the guidance of Hank and Connor as I soon was about to lose my mind. I was on my knees, clinging to them both for support as my tongue dried to a porous, chalky slab.

 

“Y/N, Y/N, what did he say just now?” Connor had to carry me as I buried my head into his chest.

 

“Kid, speak up, what the fuck happened in there??? I couldn’t hear a damn thing at the end.” Hank had his hand against my back.

* * *

 

At approximately 8:50 PM, the body of an innocent  boy was found, buried among the loose dirt and gravel of a sodden ditch. The boy’s corpse was almost invisible against the gray pallor of the earth, hidden in the cloak of the night. After the coroner clocked in the time of death, cause, and the circumstances, I locked myself in Hank’s car. They didn't need me; after all, I already did my part.

 

I refused to look into the soulless eyes of a boy that I failed to save, a boy who deserved an entire life’s worth of opportunities to make mistakes, to succeed, and to feel the raw, visceral experience that is life; and now, like the extinguished flame of a candle, he was gone. My head was laying against the worn, and cold interior of the car door. I didn’t hear the tapping on the window, my mind was gradually disconnecting from its surroundings, leaving me empty.

 

I looked up, and my eyes met with Connor. He had a paper bag in his hands, with a bottle of water in the other. Connor slid into the seat next to me, his jacket grinding against the archaic leather seats. Everything reeked of alcohol and rain, but the scents soon became one and the same.

 

Without saying a word, Connor wrapped my hands around the paper bag and water bottle, and then placed his jacket around my shoulders. “Chicken Feed’s" signature logo was printed on a grease ridden bag, with a messy scrawl that spelled out “XXL Sammich". _Fucking Hank_.

 

I didn't notice the sleet of snow that had melted down to water, and stained my shirt. The distant siren lights had collected into a mass of neon blue and red, and the trees were black spikes protruding from the earth, reaching their thorned arms into the abyss of the night.

 

Connor didn’t say a word; he didn’t need to, his thoughts essentially became my own. _“It’s not your fault.” “It was an anomaly in a series of carefully considered calculations.” “Your interrogation, although unorthodox and admittedly reckless at some points, you still successfully completed the initial mission.”_

 

I leaned against Connor, letting the fatigue take me as I pressed my cheek against his chest. His arms tightly wrapped around me before he rested his head against my own. Connor was always so formal, so poetic to the point that a Byronic hero was made to look like a fool. Our conversation made these quiet moments eb, and flow at a cathartic rhythm.

 

“Y/N"

 

“Yes, Connor?” My hand was draped across his knee, drawing unknown patterns along his thigh.

 

“May I speak?”

 

 _You never have to ask.. never_. “Yeah, of course.”

 

“Since we are technically off duty.. are you fine with being ‘unprofessional’ for a few minutes?”

 

The phrase dripped with a tinge of sorrow as it left Connor's lips. I lifted my head to get a better view of him; his skin was flawless despite is eyes being sullen and dredged with melancholy. The events of the past some odd hours have been mentally straining for him as well. Well, as mentally straining as it could be for a man with a metal chassis.

 

“Since when did you know how to use hypotheticals?” I tried to come off as comedic as possible; wish I could say I was successful.

 

“I'm a metal man capable of learning quite literally anything. Cyberlife paid a small fortune to have me mass produced, remember.”

 

“Right, right… well, I give clearance to be ‘unprofessional’ for a little.”

 

We exchanged soft chuckles, and featherweight smiles as we took each other's hands into our own. Still and peaceful in a world of sheer chaos, I couldn't ask for more at the moment. I… I technically could, but someone did say count your blessings.

 

“What's on your mind?”

 

“... let me, figure out the best way to put this into words.”

 

My blood spiked, and leapt. “Ok.. take your time.” I worked up a smile even though I could feel the warning signs of an invisible red light. Connor took out a loose quarter and started flipping it in between his fingers, balancing thoughts with every motion.

 

“The deal that we made, I've been rethinking my perceptions of love. Much like color, love also abides by the rules set upon a spectrum. Be it platonic, romantic, or even familial, love presents itself as a force that binds people to one another.” Connor kept his hand wrapped around mine, thumb pressed against the meat of my palm. I nodded after every sentence despite me being at risk of passing out at any second.

 

“Y/N, did you need a place to rest on? I’m reading that you’re very sleep deprived, and that you need rest before your body starts to develop symptoms, such as poor balance, weakened immunity, high blo--.” Before he could finish, I crumpled into a log as I spread my legs out till it touched the handle of the door. My head pressed against Connor's lap with my face turned upward to maintain eye contact.

 

“This’ll do. Anything is fine at this point, haha. Thanks for offering”

 

He only smiled in reply. “I know my lap isn't the softest… but I'd be more than happy to lend it to you.”

 

“Don’t worry, it’s.. Better than sleeping against a car door. Does wonders for my neck. But… but yeah, keep going, I’m listening.”

 

His fingers played with loose strands of my hair before continuing. His countenance glowed with shades of white and gray from a nearby car’s headlights. The lighting was faulty and poor, but nothing more was needed.

 

“Alright… continuing from where I left off, I'm more.. aware now, of your reaction from a few nights ago. You said that I didn't understand what love really was like, and that I was confused, but…. For once, I disagree with you wholeheartedly.”

 

The invisible knot began tightening around my heart again, like pliers bearing down against a mound of flesh, a metric ton of pressure bearing down upon my very soul.

 

“I… I don’t know what to say to that.”

 

Shaking his head, Connor continues. “I was born just 5 months ago, created for the purpose of hunting Deviants, maintaining peace, and being a reliable tool for the people. I was nothing at that point in time, honestly, and I had no other aspirations aside from completing the mission. Then…”

 

A momentary pause, a scene frozen in time for what seemed like forever.

 

“I met Lieutenant Hank Anderson. He's shrewd, impolite, narrow minded, and an alcoholic; but that's all.. you'll see if you don't try to dig deeper.”

I nodded more vigorously than intended. A few patrol cars started to pull out of the dirt; it seems that the night was coming to a close, and people desired rest.

 

“I learned.. what it meant to be a person from him, first. He asked me questions, he tried to provoke me, he even shoved me around a couple times until he started inviting me over for dinner. I thought that all I needed to know about life was between a man and his dog, and nights spent chasing criminals down dark alleyways.”

 

My heart was beating too fast for me to stay down. I propped myself up, keeping a hand on Connor’s jacket like a cloak against the cold. I taking ragged breaths, unable to touch the food or water given to me. Connor’s hand started to move down to the small of my back, but there was no pressure or push to force us closer. His hand only remained at the small curvature of my back, fingers curled around the latissimus.

 

“Connor… what are you trying to-”

 

“I’m trying to say.. I’m. I’m trying to say that I don’t even know how to come up with the right words for my feelings.” He smiled meekly. A full, toothy grin stretched across his face like a white plane connecting the sky to its horizon. Flowery, but true.

 

“Ok, then… try saying things in the order of a list. Make a mental list of topics that you want to talk about, and then complete the list as you go.” I mimicked the motion of writing on a piece of paper. Connor got the gist of it.

 

He took my face, and cupped it between his delicate fingers. _Oh, wrong gist. Wrong gist._ His hands weren’t turning the same skeleton white as I’ve seen before, which made sense considering I’m not at all an android, but it was still a visual phenomena nonetheless. My eyes strayed, unable to rest themselves in the waves of grey and brown within Connor’s. I tried focusing on the door knob, the driver’s seat, the center console in front of the audio system, anything, anything; but my eyes found their perch on his lips. Soft, and slightly plump, I could make out the finer striations on his lower lip. The trance was powerful, and I was unwilling to fight for breaking _one_ rule, _one major_ rule seemed worth being able to become margianally _closer_.

 

“Then let me start again, from the top.” Eyes half open, lashes softly forming an awning that gave his face a soft expression of reverance, I let myself go; I closed my eyes to shut out any and all visual distractions. I clung to his words as they rolled over me.

 

“It all started.. With.. you.”

 

My ribs expanded, jolted, and stirred.

 

“When I met you, I remember the day clearly, I thought you were one of the most genuine people I’ve ever met. Aside from Hank, you were… honest, clear with your intentions, and you were even determined to a fault. Your stubborness forced you through troughs of corpses, it almost even ruined some of the leads we had, but somehow, you still found a way to be a helpful asset. You.. you even tried taking care of me. If ever I was compromised during a field case, you’d always be there to pick me up, and you were always there by my side whenever I had to go in for repairs. Before you… only one other person ever did that…”

 

The anticipation was poisoning me, and it pried my eyes open. My lips were cracked, and my tongue was dry. “You.. I.. I was afraid that you were going to die at certain points.” I didn’t expect Connor to grab me, and press me against his chest as he spoke into my ears. His thirium core pumped underneath my fingers; it was cold and the contact was oddly intimate.

 

“Our history, Y/N, reassures me of multiple things. However, it reassures me that I truly do know.. How I feel towards you. I love Lieutenant Anderson, as one would love any friend, but my love for you is.. Different from that.”

 

I clenched the fabric above his ‘heart’. I was deafened by the rush of guilty euphoria overtaking me.

 

“I love you.. I love you, I love you, Y/N… I’ve been searching for a better half that I never knew existed. You were the next part of my life, the next choice I wanted to make on this plane of existence. I want to say yes.. To arguments, to disagreements, to the prejudice we’ll soon have to face. I want.. To wake up next to you every day, with a cup of Kyoto cold brew in hand, and I want nothing more than to live as human of a life as possible.. With you.”

 

What was I supposed to say? Was I supposed to say ‘I love you’ back? Do I scream my feelings into the mildew infested interior of Hank’s car? Or do I sit here in silence, without returning anything? At the end of the day, I was asking myself the same question: _do I lie, or do I tell the truth_.

 

“You don’t need.. To say anything. I want you to come to your own conclusion, on your own terms. But.. I know I can’t keep lying to myself anymore. My feelings are the plain truth.”

 

“Connor…” Did I have the courage? Was I willing to risk.. An entire life of normalcy to just utters these words? Could I keep denying myself what seems to be the inevitable?

 

I separated myself from Connor. My hands still pressed against his chest, I leaned my forehead against his. Slowly, my hands began to travel upward to the skin along his neck. Slightly exposed, I let my thumb rest against the side of his neck. I closed my eyes, praying to an invisible deity to give me the strength to carry this through.

 

“Y/N.. Do.. do you…”

 

“Connor..,” I paused as I looked into his eyes. I wanted to look at him during this moment of truth. “Connor, I l-”

  
A loud bang on the window completely caught Connor and I off guard. We almost fell over from sheer fright; Hank was on the other side, staring at us with a derisive glare. _Shit… he knows, fuck_. 


	4. The Sun Sets Today

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Today is a day for courage, and a day to be honest with not only yourself but with Connor. Time to take the leap, no matter the consequences. "No matter the consequences" is gonna come back, and bite you in the ass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS A THICK AND JUICY BOI. 
> 
> That is all. I thank the stars for jingles-cosplay, and her beta ways.

Caught like two lovers making out on the side of an abandoned road in the woods, Connor almost kicked me away as he did a back shuffle for the car door. His knee landed a blow so powerful to my chest, I almost felt my lungs collapse. “Y/N, ooooh my god,  I’m so sorry, are you ok?” Breathless, I squeaked a hushed “I’m ok, don’t worry,” before quickly gasping for air again. I laid back against the car door on my side, heaving with my hand pressed against my heart. 

 

Hank didn’t seem to care; for all I know, he was probably more than willing to call 911 for  _ himself _ just so he didn’t have to witness this. Ripping open the driver side door, Hank threw his back against his seat. Uncharacteristically silent, he didn’t turn around as he jerkingly put the key into ignition. I wasn’t used to the lack of smart ass quips, the lack of snarky remarks, and the obvious lack of cussing. 

 

His elbow rested against the car window, the low hum of the engine running out the last few miles of its weak run as he looked directly into the rear view mirror. Connor attempted to straighten me out by having me sit up, but this was a tragedy that wasn’t going to work itself out in the next 5 minutes. 

 

“Are you fucking serious..?” 

 

“Sorry, Lieutenant, I- I thought Y/N should’ve gotten the food you bought for--”

 

“SHH!!” He planted his finger against his lips; a command for Connor to shut the fuck up right then and there before he got dissected and sold for parts. 

 

I was coughing up spit in between whispering “aws”, and “Hank, you shouldn’t haves.” 

 

Hank doesn’t say anything as he puts the car into reverse. The tires grinded against the loose gravel and wet dirt, sliding itself backwards into the main road leading home. The coughing started to ease up once we were halfway home. The street lights rolled by like wraiths, suspended in the deep winter mist of Detroit. 

 

The wind was ceaseless as the car was cutting through the invisible miasma; the quiet was occasionally disturbed by the shifting of starchy fabrics against the car seats. I was nervous to find out what Hank had to say at the end of our trip; was he going to be pissed? Disappointed? A mixture of both? Or worse, was he not going to say anything whatsoever..? 

 

I looked over to Connor, who was busy staring out the window, watching the frost collect on the window. I wonder if androids ever had a fascination for the same patterns in nature that people were always interested in. Sometimes, whenever he thought I wasn’t looking, he’d press his hand against the glass, almost as though he was trying to feel winter at his fingertips. Hank snuck a couple glances at the back seat, pretending to adjust his rear mirror with every peek. Maybe the idleness of this late night car ride was what I needed; after today, there wasn’t more talking I could do. Tear stains scared my cheeks, like roads etched into a map; the skin under my eyes hung like curtains spilling onto a hardwood floor. Long story short, I was a goddamn mess. 

 

The scenery remained the same, decrepit homes after decrepit homes, occasionally separated by trees whose leaves have been ripped from them by the unforgiving cold, their black tendrils gnarled and twisted by the elements. Time seemed to fly by fast as Hank was already pulling into the parking lot of my apartment. The car crushed and grinded snow into a fine powder as it pulled along the pavement. Frozen, exhausted, and hungry, I propped open the car door with my free hand as my legs failed to keep me upright. 

 

“Need some help, L/N?”

 

“No, nah, I think I'm good..-,” was the last thing I said before slipping face first into the ice laden floor. Fiery sensations that quickly turned to piercing frost needles took over my cheeks. 

 

“Holy fucking shit…” As Hank disgruntledly kicked open the door, he sauntered towards me with a lecture ready in a queue of other hand crafted insults. In a flurry of white and blue, Connor knelt by my side as he took the entire weight of my body into his arms. Cradling me like a small dog, I was resting fully against his chest, much to the chagrin of Hank; the dismissive scowl, the furrowed brows, and the dramatic 180 seemed scripted after years of practice. 

 

“Y/N, I can carry you up to your apartment, if you don't mind. I'm afraid that, in your current condition, your chances of slipping and sustaining a head injury are currently at 81%.”

 

Dazed and awestruck, my eyes expanded to the size of marbles as Connor kept his hands firmly against my thighs and back. Hank was silent as he stood, watching Connor make his way up the steps to my apartment. “I think L/N’s just fine, Connor. Kid can make it up the stairs.” The snow fell gently as Connor smiled fondly, his stride like a confident and regal sentinel. Hank groaned, loudly, before turning his back to us. His hand was placed on the hood of his car, fingers pacing roughly against the metal casing. Connor lowered me to the ground as I extended my feet outward. Leaning against the door knob, I dug around for my house keys. With a light flick of the wrist, Connor unlocked the front door; the movement was undetectable and so instantaneous that the human eye lacks the ability to read such a movement.  _ Oh, spare copy.. Forgot about that _ . 

 

“Oh, your jacket. Don’t want you forgetting this.” Reluctantly, I slid off my temporary cape before giving it over to Connor. With a bashful smile, he took his jacket; his index finger lingered against the back of my hand, tracing a thin line as he retracted his hand. 

 

“I think I can take it from here. Thanks, Connor.” Part of me wanted to stay out in the blistering cold; hypothermia was a worthy punishment for some stolen moments. 

 

Taking in the silence, Connor wrapped around me like a buffer against the frost. I let the pressure sink into me without question, returning the favor by deepening the embrace. 

 

“Connor, hurry the fuck up! I’m freezing my ass here!” Hank was increasingly foul during the colder days of the winter. A man of his age had better things to do than to die of frostbite, or of pneumonia. Without an external influence, I would have willingly allowed for myself to be entrenched in snow, with Connor, so I made it a point to separate us with a gentle hand on the chest. “See you tomorrow...then?” 

 

“Yes, have a good night, Y/N…” As he turned away, Connor quickly snapped back around. The rigidity in his stature was laughable, and almost child like. “If you.. If you need.. Anything at all, please contact me, Y/N.”

 

“What if I get my butt stuck in the toilet?” I flashed a smirk. 

 

He chuckled heartily, hands open at his sides. “I’ll bring a plunger, some oil, and the Lieutenant then.” 

 

“Oh no, that won’t be necessary. Pretty sure I’ll die of shame.” 

 

“Alright then, just the plunger and some oil.” And with a nod, he was off. 

I waved after him as he carefully walked down to a less than pleased Hank. Arms crossed, back against the car, he deftly motioned Connor towards him. Whatever it was, he started whispering into Connor’s ears after pulling him in rather roughly. The cold was getting the better of me, so I began stepping indoors, closing the door slowly. However, my eyes still lingered on their figures, and the door was left open just a crack to get a view of tonight’s theater. A few whispers were said, some glances were exchanged, and a pat on the back from Hank sent Connor off…. Back up my staircase? In the bleariness of the howling wind, I could hardly make out Connor’s LED; what were they discussing? Was it about me? Was it about the case? Or did I forget something in the car? 

 

Whatever I left behind was now gone as Hank slammed his door shut before quickly making a perfect U-turn to pull out of the parking lot. A reckless move like that went off without a hitch, and I was left in the cold with an android too under dressed for the weather. Not that it matters to him, at least.    
  


“Wait, wait, where’d Hank go??” I opened the door just wide enough to let Connor in, but my head was cocking feverishly like a confused ostrich. To say that the situation was beyond me, was a severe understatement of my current delusions. 

 

“Lieutenant wanted me to stay with you for the night. He said, in his own words, ‘I need a night without some ‘droid babysittin’ me. Go on, git.’” It was chilling how uncanny the impersonation was; Connor smirked with prideful glee as he neatly slung his jacket over the side of my sofa. The poor thing looked ill in comparison to the flawless silhouette of the jacket. 

 

“And, did he take into account what would happen if I said no?”  _ Probably not. I already know the answer _ . I was still shaking from the cold, but I was more so wracked with questions as to what Hank was plotting.

 

Connor sat himself proper and neat, with his hands folded on his lap. “He said there wouldn’t be a chance of that happening.” 

 

_ Motherfu-- _ “Hank’s a lot smarter than he lets on. Je-jeez it’s fucking cold..!” The tips of my fingers were nearly covered in frost just from the limited exposure earlier. I gave the radiator a couple kicks as I simultaneously adjusted the settings. Looking like a ragged hag, much to Connor’s poorly hidden delight, I rushed into the bedroom and started stripping off all of my now drenched layers.

 

“I'm glad the Lieutenant was right, for once. Although, I do need to know one thing.” Connor’s balanced cadence twisted into a playful, singsong tone. 

 

“Yeah, what? What’s up?” I stood, waiting for his question as I let my blazer hit the floor. I peeked into the living room, my eyes meeting Connor’s. His face smiled at the contact. 

 

“...Were you.. Going to turn me down if I asked to stay?” 

 

_ “Oh yeah, I was totally going to let you freeze out there. _ ”  _ Ha, as if.  _ “No.. absolutely not.” That came out much more delicate than anticipated. Connor beamed, shining like a warm light situated comfortably in a private study. He was gorgeous, and an honest to God gift. I turned back into the room letting my fingers trail along the aged door frame, before focusing my attention on digging out decent clothes for tonight.

 

“Did you need to change into something clean, by the way?” I was reaching for one of my newer, cleaner t shirts, and a spare pair of shorts that didn’t run too tight. “Your clothes look pretty beat up.” His muffled giggles could be heard from across the room, with radiator running and all.  _ The sound… that sound.. hngh... _

 

Connor walked into the bedroom, shoes still on. His hair had a couple loose strands, but it didn't do much to diminish his market professionalism. 

 

“I think I'm fine for tonight. I don’t feel uncomfortable.”

“You  _ sure _ ?” Knelt over a broken cabinet door, I looked up and down along Connor’s pant leg, covered in splotches of dirt and puddle water from treading in the ravine. There were tears along the bottom of his pant leg that went a little above the ankle; along the sleeves of his dress shirt were faint traces of blood stains, probably from handling the victim’s..

 

I bit my lip, nearly tasting blood coming up against cracked skin. “Your clothes are barely hanging on, and I prefer if you didn’t sit on my couch with blood and mud on your clothes.” Connor, slightly squeamish and even more silent, looked down at his feet and scanned his clothes. After seeing the apparent damage, Connor took on the meekness of a small schoolboy as he held out his hands, palms open. 

 

I cracked a small smile, with a touch of “I told you so”, as I dropped the clothes in his hands. With a nod, he hopped off into the bathroom and started stripping down with the finesse of a Vegas showgirl. Or… at least, I think that’s how fast a stripper works.  _ How do they do that spinning thing..?  _ Connor had nothing to hide, and he didn’t understand the concept of shame seeing as how he left the door wide open for me to watch the swath of white silk slide off his skin. 

 

Being me, I had a large and comprehensive understanding of shame, and sometimes I am the very embodiment of it, I changed in the bathroom with the door closed. That is, I tried to. For more than 10 hours, I had nothing but a cup of coffee, and I was running on less than 5 hours of sleep. The dizziness was overwhelming, but I managed to get my pants off until Connor knocked on the door. Spooked, I fell over, my bare and exposed thighs hitting the cold tile as my shoulder slammed into the wooden base of the sink. 

 

Without answer, Connor nearly charged the door at a force that should’ve knocked it clean off its hinges, concern welling up in his eyes as he got down to the floor. 

 

“Oh, oh I’m sorry, Y/N, I should’ve been more careful! Are you alright?” 

 

I balled up like a little pill bug before sitting myself on the floor. “I’m fine, yeah! I’m just.. Really really dizzy.” I was able to kick my pants onto the floor before grabbing onto Connor’s arm for support. Upon looking down, I noticed that Connor was still dressed in his uniform, save for the fact he was shirtless. 

 

I pointed, mute and dumb, as I choked on the words trying to pry themselves from my tongue. “You.. you’re… not dressed?” 

 

Connor, a bit bewildered, quickly patted his chest and then his core before his eyes grew wider at the realization that he was half dressed. “Ha, I actually need a larger shirt.. If you have one.” He pulled me up to my feet, chests barely inches apart from each other. “I derive no comfort from the different types of shirts available to me, but I prefer not to tear your clothes.” Holding up the shirt I had given to him in one hand, I ran my fingers along seams that were beginning to pull apart at the sides.  _ Shit, new shirt it is.  _ “I think I have a spare. Come on.” 

 

After some digging, I managed to find a much older, and larger t shirt that harkened back to another era. I threw it over to Connor, who slipped it on with hardly a struggle. The starchy cotton hung loose on his slender frame, visible holes along the armpit were threatening to sever the sleeves if any force was exerted.

 

I flinched at the shirt, as it served as an example of the obvious discordance of my life. A room overflowing with untouched laundry, scenic stock photos in aged frames were hanged crooked, and the occasional cracks in the parchment like texture of the walls beckoned for an expansive DIY project. I shook my head slightly after turning back to slam my wooden dresser shut. 

  
  


However,  the Renaissance qualities of his face served as a striking contrast to the rest of his appearance; hair slightly out of place, with a few stray stands brushing gently along the smooth counters of his cheeks, Connor looked like the subject of a Norman Rockwell who found itself in a Grecian painting. 

 

“This wouldn't happen to be a hand me down, now would it, Y/N?”

 

“Shit, is it that bad?

 

Connor, pinching the ragged corners of the shirt, waved his hand from side to side. 

 

“It's not… bad, but it's not good either. Does that make sense, Y/N?”

 

“I mean, when you say it like that, it doesn’t inspire much confidence! It’s either ugly, decent, or nice!” I giggled throughout my reply like an idiot; Connor started shaking with laughter, arms wrapped around his torso as he bent over from the sheer glee. That was when I noticed the thin trail of dirt, and blood along his hands and neck.  _ What the fuck? How blind am I? _

 

“Oh my god... “ As I chuckled, I grabbed a spare rag and lathered it in warm water and soap. 

 

“Wait, what is it?” Connor started touching his cheeks, and his neck, confused by the sudden outburst. 

 

“You have dirt and blood all over you. Look!” I came off more accusingly than expected; I pointed at his hands and neck, covered in grime. 

 

Connor moved towards the mirror, inspecting the residue from today’s mess. “Well, that’s unfortunate. If you don’t mind.” Taking the rag from my hands, he started wiping off the dirt. Connor was making decent process, that is, until he was unable to reach for the stains along the back of his neck. 

 

“Here, let me help.” Our eyes were focused on the mirror; smiling at each other, Connor handed off the rag to me as whispered a quick ‘thank you’. He leaned back against the restroom sink, legs opened just enough for me to squeeze through. Resoaking the rag, Connor smiled down at me tenderly as I silently worked on his neck. The peace was welcomed. There were no words, just a shared agreement to let actions speak for themselves as I made clean of Connor’s skin. No matter how many times I look at him, I sometimes forget that under this skin is a series of metal, skeletal structures linked together by expensive bio components. Moving along his neck, I wiped away the dirt gathered around his hands. I gravitated towards him, inching closer bit by bit as his legs parted to make room for me. Our foreheads touched, just a hair, as I cradled his hands in mine. Breaths were exchanged, as were occasional glances and smiles.  _ Can this last? This… this is perfect. _

 

“Y/N”

 

“Yes?

 

“You missed a spot.” 

 

Looking at his even more spotless skin, I didn’t see any stains.  _ What the fuck, where??? I don’t se-- _ .

 

“I never said  _ where.” _

 

With that, Connor took the rag from me, wiping off the tear stains embedded on my cheeks. 

 

“Oh, heh.... Thanks.” I was red, my feet turning into ice every time Connor’s finger brushed against my cheeks. 

 

Closing my eyes, I visualized the events of today. An interrogation gone wrong, a pissed off Hank, the emaciated and wounded corpse of a boy who deserved,  _ no _ , needed a second chance. 

 

“Please, don’t dwell on the past.”

 

My eyes peeled open to see Connor wearing a concerned expression. 

 

“What? I wasn’t.. I.” 

 

“Remember that I have a constant read on your vitals, Y/N.” Connor’s hands were wrapped around mine, his thumb pressed on my pulse. 

 

“The interrogation… was flawed, and some parts were poorly executed.” 

 

I flinched at the words. Mouth dry with a lump building in my throat, a single tear was welling up in my eye as I hung my head low; Connor lifted my chin. “I know.. I know that’s not what you needed to hear, but I wasn’t finished..”

 

As he pulled me in for a hug, he tightened his arms around my torso with my head cradled against the crook of his neck. Letting myself go, for the first time in what seemed like ages, I sobbed; pouring my  _ soul _ onto Connor’s shirt, soaking it in waves of grief. 

 

“You did your best, just as we expected, and we’re both proud of the responsibility you took upon yourself. Statistically speaking…. There was.. A chance for failure, and a chance for success.”

 

“I still failed, I still failed and I can’t believe I let that happen..! All that training-- all that training went to WASTE!” 

 

I choked on my words, Connor stayed stalwart and steady for my sake. 

 

“The-ther-re’s no excuse fo-fo-for what happened!” Not a word was said, just two people holding each other in the quiet intimacy of a bathroom in dire need of a cleaning. He didn’t stop me, he only lent himself as the person I needed in that moment. 

 

“Y/N, hey.” 

 

My face was covered with snot, thick globs of mucus dripping down my lips. No matter how much I wiped, they were still there, coating my skin with a sticky layer of shame. My hands pressed against my face, like as though it wanted to force my tears back into me. 

 

“I-I- I- ha-” I was trapped in a miserable fit of hiccups, little pockets of air becoming trapped in my throat. 

 

“Y/N, you did your best. The mission was to gather information on the whereabouts of the young boy, and you did it,” Connor whispered to me. His words were like a fishing line, a lifeline for me to grap onto. And yet, the pain was still here, radiating in my chest. 

 

“Please… please don’t lie to me.” I shook my head; a string of snot dangled, swaying before Connor caught it with the rag. He tossed it into the sink before placing both his hands on my shoulders. He shook me enough just to straighten me out. 

 

“I’m going to need you to listen to me,  _ closely _ , when I say this.” His eyes were focused, intense at the creases. I could only stare back, blankly. Regardless, he still spoke to me with the soothing caress that was reminiscent of sunset winds. 

 

“Logically speaking, I have no reason to lie  _ if _ it doesn’t serve as a benefit. Comforting you, wiping away your snot, taking a piece of the burden is what I  _ want _ to do. If you want to keep crying, keep hurting, that’s fine. I’ll  _ still _ choose to stay here.”

 

I never thought another person in this world would show me the same kindness that Connor had. His unequivocal desire to be honest, first and foremost, always left me stunned and stupid. Moreso stupid, but you get what I’m saying. For the first time, all day today, I was able to feel the motivation to at  _ least _ try and smile. My eyes were close to falling and dropping right out of my skull, but I’ll let that go for tonight. 

 

“Does that make sense, Y/N?” 

 

Wiping away my tears this time, I let out a small chuckle. “Yes.. yes it does. It makes complete sense, Connor.” 

 

I paused for a few seconds to mop up the rest of my tears with my shirt.  _ Messy… shirt's going into the wash for sure. _ I let the words stew. Connor was quiet, saying nothing as he wiped stray tears away. As he leaned in, resting his head against mine, he muttered more comforts. 

 

“I can assure you that you were made for this job. You belong here, Y/N.”

 

“You're a lot better at…,” I gestured at myself, ”this, than I expected.”

 

“What, being a friend, or being a therapist?” Connor’s voice was a twinge of sincerity mixed with playfulness. 

 

“Honestly, both.” 

 

“Then, I’m glad.” A gleeful grin perked up Connor’s lips. 

 

“... Connor.. Thank you.” 

 

He only looked at me, not responding as he pressed those same lips against my forehead. The smile left a temporary mark against my skin.  _ Gesture of platonic love.. Heh, fitting.  _ It was fitting, but here I am, carrying sorrow in my heart for something that never belonged to me in the first place.

 

I took one more look at Connor, close and mine for a few more seconds before standing up straight. I missed him already, which was a mystery to me because it wasn’t like he ever left. Connor is still in the room with me, now holding my hand gently, but he isn’t  _ here _ the way I wanted him to be. A selfish thought I pushed to the back of my mind, I moved aside, taking my hand with me, so that he could walk out of the bathroom. I followed after him as I took small, cat-like steps. 

 

“So, any plans for tonight?” Connor was already turning on the TV before I could answer. 

 

“No case files, God no, I just wanna sit down and TRY to relax.” I could feel the filth of today’s work burying itself into my pores. I wish I could shed this skin. 

“Good, we’re both on the same page then.” Connor placed the remote along the sunken arm of my sofa before heading back into my room. “I should change my pants while I’m at it.” With one foot along the ripped end of his pant leg, Connor added another rip. “These are definitely in need of a replacement.” 

 

“And it only took you over a generation.” He shook his head as he disappeared into my room. I was silently congratulating myself internally with a rapturous uproar; _ I made a funny today, good for me.  _

 

Then it hit me; I’m half naked, underwear exposed, legs out, only a half buttoned dress shirt was keeping me from being completely nude in front of…  _ oh, FUCK. _ Trying to be sly, I started back into the restroom until Connor grabbed my hand by the wrist. I swiveled around, startled by the contact. 

 

“Did… did the pants not fit?” 

 

“It’s not that.. You look really tired, Y/N, and I recommend that you eat and hydrate as soon as you’re finished changing. I recommend that you also take a warm shower to help relax your muscles, if possible.” 

 

Acknowledging that it was unwise to fight against his concerns, I smiled softly before taking his hand into my own. “Ok, ok, I’ll do that right now. I’ll try to be quick.” The gap between us was slim, a minor inch that could be closed without so much as a…  _ STOP. _ With a quick 180, I was off in to the bathroom, locking the door behind me after throwing the door against the frame.

 

“Wait, Y/N.” Connor knocked gently on the door. My back was against the door, cheeks red with unbridled temptation. I couldn’t suppress the desire welling up in my chest, the desire to reach out, to hold his hands, his face against mine, to make him mine--  _ NO.  _ I quickly cracked the door open. 

 

Connor’s eyes hung low with a sense of somberness.  “About earlier, in the Lieutenant’s car, I’d... like to continue that conversation. But, only if that’s ok with you!” A shade of nervousness was present as Connor rubbed the back of his neck, afraid of what my answer may be. My heart was ready to explode. Shock pulled my mouth down to my bottom of my chin, the eyes out the farthest reaches of my forehead. “Is that ok, Y/N?”

 

“Um, um, yeah.. Yeah, we can do that.” I hid behind the door like a frightened mouse, eager to put all of this mess behind me. The creases around Connor’s eyes were the last thing I saw upon closing the door. I turned the shower handle all the way up.

 

Setting aside some of the loose items in my pockets at I stripped off the rest of my layers, I thought back to Hank. _Holy shit, what is this old codger thinking????_ My phone was resting on the sink, still covered in coffee stains and in need of a charge. I unlocked it, and then started prepping a text. _Closure, I need closure._ First, I needed to know what his intentions were; what was going on in his mind when he told Connor to stay with me? Why is he being so contradictory? 

 

After a few minutes or so of fumbling to find the right words, I had a text ready: 

 

_ 9:51 PM _

 

_ Hey, what the fuck?  _

 

Now, we wait. I’d be stupid to expect a quick response. Except, I was stupid for  _ thinking _ I  _ wasn’t _ going to get an immediate response; Hank was calling me, and my veins turned to ice as I answered. I turned on the shower faucet, letting the water muffle the conversation.

 

“What the fuck did you just text me?” Hank, surprisingly, wasn’t slurring his words like he normally would be. 

 

I felt confident in my delivery, but that was probably because the fear killed my nerves and my capacity for shame. I hissed into the phone as I sat on the edge of the tub. “ _ Did you forget our conversation from today??”  _

 

A pause; Hank was mumbling on the other line. “No, I remember everything.  _ Crystal clear _ .”

 

“ _ Then why’s he here???”  _

 

“Because, I realized, that this shit ain’t gonna sort itself. You’re not even talking, FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!!” 

 

I shushed him as the words were drilling into my ear. I peeked nervously at the door like a skittish animal before continuing. I waited a few seconds before replying. 

 

“ _ You’re the one who told me to keep a distance!! ARE YOU FUCKING SENILE NOW?”  _

 

I didn’t mean to say that. My face was burning from the fiery embarrassment. 

 

“Haha, no, I’m not fucking senile but I.. Ok, don’t fucking hold this against me, alright?” 

 

Only the sound of rushing water filled the room. I breathed, letting the hot air exit my chest. “ _ Ok… just say it.” _

 

“... I realized, that I was wrong. You ain’t gonna fix a thing if you don’t TRY and work on it. Now, I’ve never been much of a talker, but..  I’ve also had enough regrets.” 

 

“Oh.. Hank.” 

 

“UH-BUH-BUH, QUIET!!” 

 

“Ok, god, sorry.” 

 

Mixed among each other were a couple “jesus fucking christ”’s, and even more “fucking unbelievable”’s. 

 

This turned out to be funnier than expected, and even cathartic in a sense. 

 

“....can I finish?”

 

“Yes, yes you may. Sorry.” I held my phone against my cheek as I tried to swallow the laughter.

 

“What are you two doing right now..?” The weariness in his words started to sound more apparent. 

 

I sighed as I let my foot dangle into the tub. “He’s watching TV right now… I'm about to shower, and… he wants to talk about what happened  _ earlier.” _

 

“Huh.. what happened earlier?”

 

“Hank, you're not an idiot.”

 

“Wait, did you fucking kiss him? Cause I'm  tellin’ ya, his  _ tongue _ has been digging around in  _ shit so disgusting _ , a fucking DUNG beetle --” 

 

“DUDE--” My hand flew up to my mouth as I heard footsteps outside of the door. 

 

“Y/N? Is everything alright?? Do you need help???” 

 

“No, no, no I’m fine. Sorry.. I uh, thought I needed you to grab me something!”

 

Some seconds passed. 

 

“Ok, I’ll be outside then. Just yell for me!

 

“Thanks!!”

 

I held the phone back up to my ear. 

 

“ _ My bad. We were talking about Connor's ...tongue?” _

 

Hank, judging from the long and almost exhausting sigh that stretched across the phone line, was ready to turn in.

 

“....let me say my piece. I need some sleep.”

 

“Ok, go.”

 

But first, a deep breath. “... I had a wife. I was married for about 23 years; only 23 years though. Half the time there were, meh, problems that cropped up. But eventually, we’d get over ourselves and learn to be a couple again. But…. After awhile, we stopped learning. Wanna take a guess?” 

 

I didn't expect this to turn into a confession booth. “... did you guys think your relationship was beyond saving?... or were you tired of trying?” 

 

“Both.”

 

There was something about the way Hank phrased it.  _ “Both" _ , so affirmative, honest, raw. An undeniable fact that has proven itself time and time again. 

 

“What should I do then, Hank?”

 

“Well, Y/N, transparency is key. Be honest, cut the bullshit and  _ just talk to him. _ ”

 

“...but… what about ...you know, deviancy?”

 

“I'll be there if something happens. Promise.” 

 

The joy trickled into my veins like a vaccine. Entering my system at lightning speeds, I had to grin hard enough to keep myself from squealing.

 

“Thanks, Hank. I should let you go. Sorry for the text, I didn't think you'd respond that quickly.”

 

“I’m incompetent, not dead.” 

 

“Yeah, yeah that’s true. I’ll let you go now. Goodnight, Hank.” 

 

Some muttering, and mumbling, but I could make out a faint “Yeah, night.” 

 

“Oh, and Hank?”

 

“What is it, L/N?”

 

“Love you.” 

 

“....” The conversation cut out. I guess I was getting ahead of myself with that one. 

 

I let the hot water hit my skin, scalding on contact, but it soon came to a comforting wash. My heart made my body shake and tremble with anxiety. I wanted to believe in Hank, to be guided by his words. Like an infection, the doubt spread like a deadly pathogen. But, somewhere in the chambers of my chest, my heart, there was an inkling of… excitement. I was.. happy, thrilled. Exuberant even. I  _ wanted _ to talk, I  _ wanted _ this moment of privacy to discuss the unspoken,  the realities only spoken in between dreams and ephemeral seconds of intimacy. 

 

_ But… can I… c-can I.. even handle it?  _

 

The dread began bubbling to surface, yet again. An old friend that crept itself into the deep crevices of my mind. I tried burning out the nonsense by letting the scalding water seep into my face. I needed these thoughts gone. 

 

_ Incompetent. Indecisive. Useless.  _

 

They flooded me as I took gulps of air, pruning hands pressed against the cold, slimy finish of the tiles. I dug my nails into my palms, knives threatening to break the skin. 

 

_ Connor? What about him?  _

 

I held on, gritting my teeth through the pain, the pulsating nausea coursing through my blood. 

 

_ What? Connor’s safety doesn’t matter anymore? All because of a little crush? _

 

Thoughts skipped back and forth before I realized the rush of cold flowing through my sopping hair. In my delirium, the knob was turned almost all the way back down. I completely shut everything off before quickly before wrapping my towel around me.

 

_ Connor, think about Connor. Connor, think about him. Your friend, your family, your--. _

 

Fog obscured my reflection in the mirror. I didn't need to see myself, I didn't  _ want  _ to see myself. 

 

_ Tell him to leave. Walk away. Stop. _

 

Fingers tracing erratically along the foggy surface, hands trying to make sense of the chaos, the gratuitous farce of my emotions. 

 

_ Quit. Jump ship. Abandon.  _

 

No one else could be my anchor at this moment. No one. I listed the possible scenarios that could transpire. 

 

_ Heartbroken? …. Happy?.... Devastated.?... _

 

The words became a disjointed jumble; water drops cut through the letters as they rolled along. My hair hung in wiry strings as the fibers stuck to my cheeks. I changed into an old shirt and sweater, with sweats that have seen better days. As I wiped the mirror clean, the reflection of a haggard and tired vessel of a ghoul stared back at me. I placed a hand to my cheek, closed my eyes, and then breathed in deep. I was hoping that some confidence would find its way into me, something to give me the strength to be honest, _ for once. _

 

_ Ok… steady.  _

 

The steam trickled onto the hardwood as I opened the door. Connor was seated neatly, hands still folded on his lap as he was watching a movie. 

 

“Hey, just finished up.” I dumped my dirty clothes in the hamper before moving into the kitchen. I grabbed my food from the coffee table before throwing myself on the couch. 

 

“Are you feeling better, Y/N?” 

 

“Eh.. I’ll feel better eventually..” I waved it off. I swallowed up a good chunk of the sandwich after unwrapping it. “Wait, what are you watching?...” I had to squint.

 

“I honestly have no idea. I just turned it on, and it was there. The plot is… interesting at least.”

 

I stared at Connor, waiting for him to look back; the moment we made eye contact, Connor snorted a quick laugh.

 

“Ok, I have no idea what’s going on. There’s a man dancing on a table, but I think he’s experiencing a heart attack.” 

 

I choked on a chunk of chicken as I laughed. I quickly coughed up the piece, my teeth gritted against the fibers. 

 

Connor nodded, smiling as he watched me inhale another chunk. My eyes were trying to focus on the screen; the actors looked like moving blobs, clusters of pixels to my malfunctioning eyes. The dialogue was barely audible past my monstrous chewing. Not like it was focal point of my attention anyway; the coarse leather felt like a dreamy comfort after today. My body started to give into the soft embrace, my surroundings became more blurred at the edges as lights fused with the televised menagerie. The physical world was slipping out, right out from under my feet, and out of my fingers. 

 

“Y/N”

 

My breath caught in my throat.  _ Fuck… that was rude _ . “Oh my god.. I’m so sorry… Um.” Bent over, I rubbed my eyes. The blood rushed throughout my body as I tried sitting up. My food was on the floor, unwrapped and exposed. Connor brushed it aside, and tossed it into the trash before rejoining me. 

 

“You’re in need of rest, Y/N. I’m going to carry you to bed, if that’s ok.”

 

“N-no, no I’m fine. I can walk myself.” I 

 

“Here.”

 

Connor got on his knees as he scooped me into his arms. Resistant, I squirmed like a newborn kitten, unwilling to stay still as I was placed into my bed. I curled up in my sheets, face fully buried into my pillow as I tried to come up with a reply. 

 

“I won’t take no for an answer, Y/N. You need to rest.”

 

“No… I don't wanna be a bad host… you're gonna be so bore--" I yawned before I could finish the sentence.  _ Fuck _ .

 

“I'll be  _ fine.  _ You've hardly slept, and you ate even less. Let me get you a cup of water so you can hydrate before sleeping.”

 

My eyes were like shutters, opening and closing again as sleep threatened to keep them shut. I watched as Connor left for the kitchen. After turning off the TV, and the lights with it, Connor walked back into the bedroom with a water in one hand, and a sleep aid in the other.  _ Of course there’s melatonin. _

 

“Here, take this.” 

 

I reached for the pill, hand open and ready to scoop it up, before retracting my arm. “No.” I dove under my bedsheets, burying a little retreat for myself much to the chagrin of Connor. 

 

“Y/N, please take this. You need it.” 

 

“Nope.” I wrapped a protective cocoon around myself, unwilling to emerge from my new home. I didn’t hear anymore protests, just silence. Then, the floorboards started to creak, and the bed started to give way to a shift in weight. I didn’t make anything of it; maybe Connor was trying to take a seat, waiting until I finished throwing my tantrum. But, the pressure started shifting away from the corner, and more towards the center; onward from the center, his body started inching closer and closer to my cocoon. Playing a mental game of chicken, I stayed under my carapace, refusing to play his game. Then, suddenly, he stopped. Without warning, or any explanation, Connor rested upon his knees, digging slightly into the curvature of my back. His hand started tracing along the outline of my shoulder; I could’ve sworn he was going to rip my comforter from me, but he didn’t. Instead, he leapt onto me with a force that knocked my blanket loose, my arms and legs flying in the air as the bed heaved and jolted with a shiver. 

 

“OK OK OK, I’LL TAKE THE PILL!!!” I giggled like a child, shouting as my limbs flew in a storm.  I didn’t need to shout; Connor’s nose was brushing up against my own as he grabbed my hand, a smirk emerging on his face. Some strands of hair fell out of place, lightly touching his forehead. I stopped breathing, oxygen had difficulty finding its way into my lungs. 

 

“H-h-hey… whatcha… whatcha doing there~....?” My voice cracked at the last second; like a collapsed air bag, my lungs were flattened and compressed within my rib cage. 

 

“I prefer to go the route that uses the least resistance, Y/N” 

 

I blinked, stared, and then blinked again. I was slack-jawed, my mouth cracked open almost as wide as my eyes. Sweat began collecting at the back of my neck as Connor lingered closer, lips just a breath away from my own.  _ A dream I can’t wake up from. This is fine… things can stay like this… _

 

And like that, with expert finesse, the pill was plopped right into my mouth. 

 

“Thank you for your cooperation.” 

 

I caught the melatonin in my tongue before I could swallow it, prompting Connor to frown. 

 

“I’m not going to force you to swallow the pill, then. You’re an adult, after all.” 

 

I cocked my head to the side, spitting out the pill onto my pillow.  _ No chemical assistance tonight. _ Connor sighed, but he still stayed as he watched me wipe my mouth up against the pillow cover.

 

“What are you doing?”, he chuckled lightly. 

 

I kept looking off to the side. I gulped, took a breath, and closed my eyes. 

 

“... You wanted to talk about…  _ that _ , right?” 

 

I imagine Connor was somewhat stunned, surprised, maybe even astonished. 

 

“But you’re tired. You need sleep and rest-”

 

I reached for courage that was nonexistent.

 

“I’d like to talk about it.  _ Please. _ ” My voice was even, not a single inclination of doubt. 

 

A glint of indecisiveness was caught in between Connor’s eyes as he blinked, probably from trouble of processing the best route, the best approach. He slid his legs off to the space beside me. His LED flickered with flecks of yellow, filling up the dark spaces of my room with pieces of the sun. Connor’s cheek rests against the bare sheets of the mattress, no pillow, no blanket, just an android with a hand curled beside his face. 

 

I stared up at the ceiling, trying to find the right words for a situation such as this. I was never well versed with love, ‘cause who is at this point? I was like an infant with romance, a novice pertaining to the diction of affection; in other words, I am a fucking fool, and a downright dunce. _ But, here goes nothing _ .

 

“How.. how do I start this..?” I tried to dry my sweaty palms with my blanket.  _ How unsanitary _ . 

 

“You could start by making a mental list of things you’d like to discuss.” I didn’t need to look at Connor to know he was smiling, a facade to shroud the apparent nervousness. It was clouding the room, and tainting the atmosphere. 

 

“I can’t even take my own fucking advice… hehe…but you’re right.” 

 

And then he waited, he waited for me to start on my mental list, to say something. The moon casted a soft light, projecting a light that illuminated us as we laid side by side. Out of the corner of my eye, I could make out the hazy touch of chestnut that was Connor’s eyes. I couldn’t avoid him the entire time.

 

“I lied.” 

 

The words hit just right; Connor’s eyes widened, the look of shock parted his lips. He was silent, struggling to vocalize thoughts into words. The moon weaved the image of a person lost in translation, feeling true fear, true fright in the face of emotional turmoil. I’d be playing the liar if I said I too wasn’t frightened. 

 

“I lied.. About the first night, when you asked me about my… feelings.” I pressed forward, charging ever on with the little momentum I had, clutching my comforter with every word. 

 

Still no answer.  _ Keep going, don’t stop for once in your fucking life.  _

 

“I didn’t want to say the truth, to be honest, to be selfish. I was scared, and I still am. But like you said, human nature is defined by the ability to make choices, and to make these choices even if they go against all logic.” 

 

Stunned, Connor stayed as mute as ever. He only made one move, and that was to inch forward. My voice, at best, was a whimper, a soft plea for my feelings to be known and heard. I kept my vision straight, focused on my ceiling and the peeling strips of paint that started to form vines. 

 

“I never thought... I never thought…,” tears came and poured from my eyes, staining my cheeks once more,”... I never thought someone would choose to love me, not because it was convenient, but because they wanted to, because they  _ needed _ to.” 

 

My nose was clogging, my throat closing, and I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I couldn’t see Connor anymore as I kept going. My heart pumped slowly, and tediously as the blood ebbed and flowed at a rate undetectable to the human senses.   _ Please, don’t stop, not now. _

 

_ “ _ So please,  _ please _ .. don't be mad at me for being so stubborn. I’m, I--, I’m still having trouble..”

 

I hid my eyes with my forearm, struggling to erase the tears, the skin being pinched and stretched to grotesque limits. But, my arm was moved, and long fingers wrapped around my open hand as Connor’s thumb graced my cheek. I squinted to find him in the dark, and there he was, almond shaped eyes that were glowing with a youthful energy. 

 

“I’m not mad,” he whispered. The deeper I searched, the more I could make out a small ember, a light spark that was growing to a full flame. Slowly, my eyes became wider, the tears gliding off the corners of my eye and onto my pillow. 

 

“But, I’m afraid.” 

 

“Then… don’t be.” 

 

“I don’t know what I should be right now..” 

 

Connor brought his face close, exchanging breaths with me as he stroke my cheek. 

“.. You should be honest, just as you planned, Y/N.” 

 

As time stayed suspended in mid air, on a string that weaved itself in between layers of this existence and the next, I fulfilled the wishes of the me from the past. With hands outstretched across the dark, I reached for Connor to _ finally _ close the space between us. I pressed my lips against his, hand soaking in the contours of his neck as I tried to deepen the kiss.

 

In between the frenzy, I tried to deliver the words that would soon disappear. “There was a life I never knew I could have, a life that I thought was inaccessible to me, and was one that I didn’t deserve. Home is you.” I could feel a fire bloom in my chest, a spark going off behind my eyes as Connor wrapped his arms around me to bring me closer. I could feel the smile, the giggle that bubbled up from his chest into my lips.

 

“Y/N...Y/N… Y/N.. yours, always.” 

 

Connor pulled back. His face was giving way to a ditsy, toothy grin as he snuck another kiss, a gentle one that pulled at the lips. “Can I hear it? Can I hear you say it.. Just once?” 

 

I smiled brightly. I think the stars were falling short of my own light. 

 

“I love you…Connor” The words were a whisper, a secret just for him and no one else. 

 

A single tear rolled down his cheek. His hand touched the surface, barely obstructing the spherical tear. Connor balanced the droplet on his finger, watching it dangle. 

 

“...It’s not a bad feeling.” 

 

I didn’t know how much time had passed; who was counting the minutes during perfect moments of bliss? I know we weren’t. Wrapped up in sheets, quick kisses interspersed by giggles and chuckles, I wouldn’t mind staying in this world. The rest of society could keep moving on, changing and evolving as the years passed, but I would want nothing more than to stay here. I was once hollow, empty, and now I am whole under the sheets, in Connor’s arms. 

 

I was close to dozing off when Connor spoke for the first time in what felt like ages. Vaguely, the moonlight had moved off the bed and onto the floor.  _ What time is it…? _

 

“Is it an inappropriate time to bring up the proposal?” 

 

Drowsiness was a hell of a drug, because I didn’t feel any fear this time. No allergic reaction to hearing the word “proposal”. I stroke one of the tears in Connor’s shirt as I tried to gather a response.  _ Flirtatious? Straightforward? Demure? Confident?.... _

 

“No… it’s a good time to--” A deep, and bellowing yawn took over me. I couldn’t fight the fatigue for any longer, and Connor was aware of that. Adjusting my pillow, Connor moved his arms to allow my back to fully rest against the mattress. A little bit of drool escaped my lips, but my appearance was already beyond saving. I let my hand brush against Connor’s chest; his core was pumping gently as I heard a subtle whirring, a cue for stasis. My vision blurred, and the last thing I saw was Connor, closing his eyes with a smile on his face. “Perfect”, Michelangelo would say.

 

“Good night, Y/N.. I’ll be here.” 

 

A cacophony of beeping screamed for me to wake. I jolted, and nearly threw myself off the bed as I looked over at my bedside. I don’t remember charging my phone, but thank God for that. Looking at my phone, there was an incoming call: Hank Anderson. It was 4:43 AM, so what could he possibly be calling about? I accepted the call, and pressed the phone to my ear; I was greeted by the sound of rapturous shouting and screaming. 

 

“L/N, holy shit I’ve been calling for fucking ever. Where are you??? Are you at the station???” He stopped to catch his breath. I was panicking, and even worse I was clueless as to what had Hank so riled up. 

 

My voice was hoarse, and congested as I tried to speak. “What, no I’m still home. It’s 4 in the morning… what’s going on??” 

 

“The suspect, the guy you were interrogating the other day, he FUCKING BROKE OUT OF THE HOLDING CELL, AND HE’S JUST RUNNING AROUND THE CITY.” 

 

_ Shit.. shit shit shit shit _ .  _ FUCK. _

 

“L/N?? Hello??” 

 

“Fuck… yeah yeah, um, where was the suspect last spotted? I might have an idea of where he’d hide…” 

 

“I’m coming to get you right now. Grab Connor, tell ‘im he’s got 5 minutes to get ready.” 

 

“Alright, alright. Got it.” 

 

Hank hung up before I could finish. I turned to wake Connor, but he was already out of bed and changing into his uniform. 

 

“Did you get all of that?” I reached for the nearest pants, shirt, coat, and scarf in my closet. The clothes hangers flung themselves against the wall as I haphazardly pulled off each item. 

 

Connor nodded as he adjusted his tie in the mirror. “Yes, the Deviant escaped and now he is a fugitive on the run. I’ll be waiting in the living room, Y/N.” 

 

Professional as always, Connor was direct with his deliberations. I can see why; we’ve been working on the same case for months, and to have it come crashing down now would be a straight insult to our competence of Detroit’s finest. 

 

I brushed my teeth and washed my face as fast as humanly possible. I ignored the terrible bed head as I wound my scarf in a tight knot against my neck. Connor met me at the front door, with an apple and a bottle of water in had;  _ wait, when did I buy fruit?? _

 

“Here, eat this in the car.” Connor held out each item with both hands. 

 

I tried to point at each item, obviously puzzled, as I reached for my shoes. “Wait, when did I get those?”    
  


“I brought them with me from the other night. They’re leftovers from when I went grocery shopping with Lieutenant Anderson.” 

 

“Oh, that’s...convenient?” I patted my coat, searching for my phone and wallet until I saw Connor point at the coffee table. I shyly reached for them, and stored them in my pockets as we stepped out of my apartment. The moon was still up, almost ready to finish its arc as it hovered near the horizon. The bleary winter frost had already crept itself into my coat; my hand felt stiff and frozen as I attempted to lock my apartment door. 

 

We got ready faster than expected as Hank still hadn’t arrived. 

 

“Come on, let’s get down to the parking lot.” With my feeble limbs, I tried to motion for the parking lot. I bumped into Connor’s shoulder as I tried to squeeze past him, but he turned around to face me. He was smiling, a moment worth capturing in this dreary landscape. I replied with a smile, and as I parted my lips to ask a question, he kissed me. I breathed it in, I tried to make the moment last as his lips slid from mine. I felt something against my chest, prompting me to look down; the apple and water bottle were held up to my chest, an action that was accompanied by a gushing laugh from Connor.

 

“Don’t forget to eat this. Take it before you forget.”  _ Well, he’s not wrong. _

 

“ You’re always taking care of me. Do you ever get...annoyed?” 

  
  


“I believe I feel a bit frustrated, at times, but...I believe my desire to support you is stronger than any negative feelings I may develop.” 

 

I chuckled at the honesty of the polite delivery. The shrill screeching of Hank’s horn startled us. Quickly, we shuffled down the stairs and into Hank’s car. His car hardly came to a stop as he circled the lot, picked us up, and doubled out. 

 

“Good morning, Lieutenant. Did you manage to eat breakf--" 

 

“Not now Connor. L/N, where’s the punk?” 

 

I wanted no time with my debriefing. “Remember how the family's home had a  _ basement _ that was virtually untouched?”

 

With a grunt, Hank nods. 

 

“That's where he is. There were no fingerprints, a lack of footprints, and the largest traces of thirium were found there in comparison to the rest of the house.” 

 

I nodded to Connor, who continued the rest of the explanation. “Y/N made a correct assessment. I also believe the deviant is hiding there in the hope of being undetected.”

 

“It's not that.” Connor and Hank, bewildered, turned their heads towards me, waiting for further details. However, I didn't need to see any more; Connor's eyes lit with new found comprehension. 

 

“ _ Oh.” _

 

At approximately 5:13 AM, we arrived at a home in complete disrepair. The concrete of the porch was chipped at the corners, and the banister of the entryway was a gust away from completely collapsing.  _ Jesus Christ _ . I noticed a small window to the side was wide open.  _ Just big enough for an adult to fit through. _

 

“Jesus Christ, these people ever heard about mowing the lawn.”

 

“...they're dead, Lieutenant. Some respect?”

 

Hank looked over at Connor as we emerged from the car, and there was a sense of regret in his eyes. 

 

“Wait, before we start, come over here.” 

 

Connor and I gathered around Hank as he pulled out a matte black case; a lock kept it bolted together. 

 

“Hank, are those?...”

 

“Got ‘em from Fowler.” Hank popped open the case after inserting a 4 digit pin, and then brandished a police standard pistol. With a quick flourish, he checked for the safety, and the magazine. “The deviant is armed. He made off with a gun after disarming one of our men. Be careful.” 

 

He handed the pistol to me; I did receive training to handle firearms, yes, but the weight of a fully loaded weapon in my hands has always unsettling to me. But that wasn't important, so I took it with pride. 

 

“Wait, what about Connor?...”

 

“Android's cant handle guns.” And with that, Hank handed Connor a similar gun. 

 

“Our little secret.” A slight smirk flashed across his face as he pat Connor on the back. A strange degree of joy came from that interaction, but I kept my glee to myself. 

 

We orchestrated a flank around the backyard after hopping the fence. The entryway to the basement was bolted shut with a large lock, yellow tape from 2 weeks ago was fading into a distasteful brown. 

 

“Anybody got some pli--" Connor shot the lock before the end of Hank’s sentence. The look of sheer, and utter dumbfoundedness caused me to snort. Connor only smiled back casually before throwing open the door. 

 

“You're not worried that might… I don't know, scare away our guy?” 

 

“He would've been frightened by the sound of your voice, Lieutenant.” 

 

Not laughing was a painful challenge, but I had to leave the feeling at the door as we stepped downward into complete darkness. The farther we drifted, the farther the falling snow was. 

 

“Jesus Christ, it's fucking stuffy.”

 

“Sh.” 

 

I put up a hand to Hank's lips. The air was musty, and covered in dust. I stared into the oblivion to try and detect whatever noises there may be. Nothing but the ghostly touch of cobwebs. Connor's LED shined a neon blue, the only source of light in this space. 

 

There was only more silence as we moved forward.

 

“Connor, don't you got some fancy flashlight on ya?”

 

“I'm afraid I don't have one, Lieutenant. I'm  scanning the area as we speak.”

 

The basement was surprisingly bare, and there was no sign of any storage.  _ Just like how we found it.. _ I felt the presence of rocks, and dirt beneath my feet. The air was continuously stale as we traveled deeper. 

 

Just a few feet ahead was the outline of a door. Light faintly tricked into the room.  _ Did he enter from there? Has to be.  _

 

_ “ _ Hello, Y/N.” 

 

A disembodied voice spoke.  _ NO.  _ I spun back around, pistol ready, until I remembered--.

 

“HANK, WATCH OUT!!!” 

 

“LIEUTENANT!!!

 

The heavy clunk of metal, and the sound of a loud thud that was Hank’s body hitting the floor, followed by a gunshot that ripped into the air. I heard Connor fall back, gasping and struggling on the ground. A ringing eclipsed the soundscape of the room; all I could do was hold my ground, sweat coating the handle of my gun as I pulled back the safety. I pulled the trigger, feeling the bullet race through the chamber as sparks flew up into the air. For a second, I saw him; a monster taking delight in the chaos of  a battle field, dressed in blood. His devilish grin left a stain on me. That was when I realized something; he didn’t shoot me, nothing. This wasn’t a slaughterhouse; this was a hunt. 

 

“ANDREW, YOU’RE UNDER ARREST. DROP THE GUN OTHERWISE I WILL BE FORCED TO USE DEAD-”

 

“Deadly force?” The sinister, and insidious tone of his voice was like a snake, slithering and whispering its confidential evils to me. 

 

I tried firing another bullet while moving back towards Connor; the bullet must have hit his core because I was stepping into a pool of fluid that could only be thirium. Weak and frail, he tried to call out to me in a strained voice. “Y/N, Y/N.” 

 

“CONNOR, I NEED YOU TO STAY DOWN.”

 

“You know, Y/N, I realized something during my time as a bird in the cage.” 

 

_ Buy time, buy time _ . A bead of sweat rolled into my eye, one that was soon turning into a tear as I tried to suppress the whimper that was threatening to leave my lips. “....Oh? What was it?” 

 

I couldn’t hear footsteps, but the sound of Andrew’s voice indicated that he was most likely off to my right. I struggled to keep the gun steady; my hand twitched non stop. 

 

“I developed a new taste, a new desire.” 

 

“For WHAT?!” 

 

Like a ghost, his lips brushed against my ear. “To see you maimed, and dead like a dog.” 

 

With a powerful kick to the chest, I was sent flying against a wall. I felt my muscles tear, my bones break, and my blood rip through my flesh as I tried to force myself up off the ground. I heard Connor’s hands as they scurried along the stone floors, desperately searching for something,  _ anything  _ to use as offense. 

 

“Y/N!!! DON’T DIE.” 

 

My gun was gone, kicked mercilessly from my hands as Andrew buried the heel of his foot into my shoulder. He kicked, and kicked, and kicked into my chest as I felt the blood come up from my lips.  _ I can’t BREATHE. I CAN’T.  _ My chest was on fire, the pain feeling like a stone was boring itself into my ribs. I threw a punch, a kick, but nothing was hard enough to throw off the vengeful streak of a bionic entity ready to tear my away my life. 

 

But, the kicking came to a stop. I muttered under my breath, names of the two people I let down, curses. Andrew, with a surprising lack of force, placed his foot against my face. He moved the toe of his foot against my cheek, soaking in the grandeur of his work. Connor stood up, still choking and staggering from having been bled dry. I heard the cock of his gun right as he shot Andrew. Thirium splattered onto my face, but it wasn’t enough; the force against my foot did not give way, it did not soften in the least. 

 

“Fuck you…Fuck you, you fucking demon.” 

 

“And, those were their final words.” 

 

Darkness enveloped me as the bullet pierced my stomach; the hot intensity of the bullet found its way through my flesh. Leaving a trail of wreckage behind in its wake, I felt my body give up. I was shutting down. I was disappearing and fading from this world.  _ Connor...Connor… Hank.  _ I heard him scream for the first time; first was my name, second was Andrew’s.  _ I hope you get him. I hope you shoot that motherfucker dead for me _ .  _ For us _ . I closed my eyes, hoping that there was rest on the other side. 

 

I wanted to say a prayer, but to who?


	5. Not Letting Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bullet has just torn into your gut, leaving you weak and bloodied. As you lay nearly dead, hooked to machines struggling to keep you alive, Connor and Hank bear their feelings and secrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Believe in the Connor that believes in you. 
> 
> Aishiteruze, baby~.

^^ Software Instability

 

What is this rage? Why am I washed with anger, with fury, nothing but the heated thirst to rip the sheer  _ heart _ from him. I watched as Y/N was torn apart by a piece of metal, reduced to a rotting corpse devoid of life. Y/N couldn’t possibly be still alive, there’s no way, I can’t sense a pulse. 

 

^^ Software Instability

 

I buried my hand into his thirium pump. 

 

_ HOW DARE YOU. _

 

My fingers wrapped around his very essence as I tackled him to the ground, a shrieking mass of circuits filled with zealous rapture as his body leaked thirium. The wiring came loose, giving way to my freakish fingers as I pried at his rib cage. 

  
  


^^ Software Instability

 

_ HANK, Y/N, THEY’RE HURT, THEY NEED ME.  _

 

The receptors in my eyes began to fade, vision consumed by static as I dug Andrew’s face into the dirt. This was new; I wanted him to fall apart, to be be immobile, I wanted… I wanted him to suffer and receive punishment for what he did. I don’t know what possessed me in this moment to throw his chest, over and over and  _ over _ again against the floor, but I did it. I don’t remember this being programmed into me, but I became, as one could say,  _ creative.  _ I tore out his eyes, the orbs that stared into my soul with an unrelenting prejudice that began consuming me. The static began to blind me; my own chassis notified me of my body’s fluctuating heat registers.  _ 110 degrees, warning: overheating.  _ The red of my LED pierced the darkness with beams of malice. 

 

^^ Software Instability

 

_ Why am I burning? How could I possibly feel like I’m on fire right now? I want the light to leave his eyes, and the life to leave his worthless CORPSE.  _

 

Then, it ended. His body was no longer functioning. I scanned his biocomponents: 0% functioning, critical state, part #001154 has been compromised. A thick crust of thirium had coated my fingers, sticking them together as I tried to move my fingers; a taunting reminder of my mistakes, my  _ guilt _ . In the dark, the only features I could discern was the pit that I had torn into his chest after removing his thirium pump. I believe I tossed it aside, into some corner of the room; I was embarrassed, ashamed as I cursed into the dark with my teeth pressing down on my lips. The instinctual compulsion for violence got the better of me, my actions were irrational. The darkness was suffocating, but the static began to fade as I stood up; not a single sound, a stark contrast from the last 10 minutes.  _ Hank, Y/N, I need to check on them.  _

 

Lieutenant Anderson was the first to drop, but a slight concussion is still minor in comparison to a gunshot to the  _ stomach _ . My internal scanner was fully operational again, allowing me to sift through the darkness quickly. The outline of Y/N’s body was illuminated with a pool of blood. I don’t know understand why a “sinking” feeling weighed down upon my mind. I felt a dip, a sharp decrease within my “heart” as I reached out to cradle Y/N’s head. I was acting like a fool for not having realized that I had to stop the bleeding first. I stripped my jacket, and pressed it against Y/N’s wound. A sizable blood stain discolored Y/N’s shirt. From a single scan, I could see that the bullet had exited through the flesh, and into the floor. A splotch of gun powder rubbed off onto my fingers as I felt the skin around the wound. 

 

“Y/N,  _ please _ respond.” I pleaded, and I begged to feel some semblance of life as I took Y/N’s wrist in my hands. I needed to feel a pulse, anything to ease the pain. “Y/N, please answer if you can hear me.” My thumb rested on a vein; I felt a faint beat, barely detectable with my sensors. A strong feeling of what I assumed was relief washed over me as I dialed 911. For the second time in my existence, I felt tears beginning to build up, close to cascading down my cheeks. I closed my eyes, scrunching my nose as I also sent out a distress call to all nearby officers.  _ We need backup.  _ Y/N mumbled something incoherent, but it was better than being completely silent. “Y/N, you’ll be alright. We’re going to suppress the bleeding until the paramedics arrive.” I whimpered like a pathetic dog.  _ Don’t die. I can’t take this.   _

 

I don’t understand how the Deviant was able to go undetected, it wouldn’t be feasibly possible.  _ Unless. _ I tried to eject the thought from my head. I understood that the tracking devices in Deviants can be removed along with their LEDs, but to make such an assumption would be unwise of me. 

 

I heard muttering as I pushed against the wound;  _ Hank _ . If I stood up and left to check on Hank, that would leave Y/N’s wound unattended. His coat dragged along the floor; it sounded like he was propping himself up.   
  


“LIEUTENANT, ARE YOU OK?”  I called out to Hank, only to hear him shift against the dust and pebbles scattered across the floor. I breathed a quick sigh of relief as he groaned.  _ He was struck in the head, so he must be in a lot of pain.  _ “Lieutenant, I need you to ans-”

 

“JeSUS fucKING Christ.” I heard Hank stumble again, most likely from him struggling to stand up.  _ Thank God, he’s ok _ . Sluggishly, he walked towards me with staggered steps as he leaned up against the wall for support. “Connor, Connor you ok? God  _ fuck. _ ” 

 

My voice came out flat, strained by the thirium that had caught in my throat from the last impact. I shook my head, but it wasn’t like Hank could hear me. “Y/N was shot, and we need to suppress the bleeding, or-” The truth was apparent, but it burned a hole into my chest as mortality crossed my mind. Androids can be fixed, repaired, and even brought back from the near abyss of death, but humans either stay or leave their limited lives. 

Hank dropped down to his knees as he took off his jacket. I felt him tuck it under Y/N’s head. “Shit.” I didn’t think of that at all, I’m already failing Y/N more than I have. 

 

“Connor, it’s alright, just keep your hand  _ down. _ ” Somewhere in Hank’s voice was a mix of panic and anxiety. In between his rushed whispering, I could see that his blood pressure was steadily rising. His hand completely covered mine as we tried to suppress the bleeding together; neither of us are religious, but I could feel the communal prayer to bring Y/N home. 

 

“ _ Kid, DON’T die on me! _ ” It was better to be in the dark; I wouldn’t be able to take seeing the look on Hank’s face right now. I hated this surge in emotions, the screeching of my neural wires as they tried to make sense of the last altercation. Was I going to feel guilt? Regret? Is this what war veterans meant when they spoke about their first kill? 

 

“Connor, did you ca--" 

 

“Yes, Lieutenant, I  _ have.  _ They should be here within the next 5 minutes.”

 

“Fuck!.” Hank punched the floor, kicking up the dust as he cursed under his breath again. “How the fuck did he get the jump on us???!” 

 

The guilt started to spread throughout my body. “It’s my fault. I believe the Deviant was able to stay undetected because he removed his LED.” 

 

I was afraid to hear to be chided by Hank, or to have my failure acknowledged. I can’t blame the man who was struck against the head with a force akin to a car.

 

“Fucking-,” he took a deep breath in. “We’re really fucking unlucky today. It’s nobody’s fault; how would we know, right?” 

 

My internal temperature started to rise, as the gears in my mind began to click and skip at faster speeds, but Hank’s patience provided a blanket of comfort. 

 

_ Stay calm.  _ “Lieutenant, if you can, please wait outside so that you can guide the paramedics once they're here.” I looked up to what I hoped was Hank's face. 

 

“ _ No.  _ I can't just leave.”

 

_ Stubborn to a fault. _ “If you don't, they won't know where we're located, and then we'll only be losing more time. So Lieutenant, please do this for  _ me. For Y/N.” _ My eyes pleaded, and begged for Hank to put aside his own pride for once, as I kept my hand like lead against the wound. 

 

“ _ Shit.” _ He gave in, much to my relief. Hank propped up his knee, and leaned against it as he tried standing up. “Alright, alright. I’ll be at the front of the house. If I call,  _ answer _ it.” 

 

I smiled as Hank took a deep breath before he started hugging the wall, searching for the exit. My thumb pushed back the hair along Y/N’s forehead; the sweat bled into my fingers despite the skin being cold to the touch. The minutes were like hours; where were the paramedics? They should be here by now. The horror of death began to freeze me, my nerves in a constant game of tug of war.  _ Where ARE they?  _

 

Y/N’s hand crept up to mine, fingers like ice as they tried to wrap around my palm. At first, the touch barely registered in my mind, causing me to jump in place. “Y/N, can you see right now? Do you  _ feel _ dizzy at all?” No response, nor answer, just a vacant stare as Y/N began to lose consciousness. “Never mind that. The paramedics are on their way, and I’ve contacted all active officers for backup.” Not a single word; out of fear, I did another scan of Y/N’s vitals for probably the 5th time in the span of 10 minutes. 

 

Lips were chapped, cracked from dehydration and blood loss. Skin was pale, and shallow as yellow spots began to form on the surface. Y/N’s life was toeing the line of death and life, and I was at the mercy of others. I could only watch, and wait, and I wanted to continue tearing Andrew asunder; such thoughts are futile, but I keep going back to them.  _ Worthless. I should be decommissioned, scra--. _

 

I heard a rhythmic beeping in my left ear, a caller ringtone that was setting off my senses.  _ Hank, HANK. That means-.  _ “Hank, are they here?”

 

“Yeah, they are. We're gonna need you to try and bring the body up to the entrance. They can't fit the gurney down the stairs. Think you can handle that?”

 

Y/N’s body was weightless as I stood up, body in my arms. “I’m walking out, right now.” Y/N’s hand lingered and swayed limply as we walked closer towards the light. The faces were a blur, blots in an otherwise chaotic canvas that would eventually fade from my memory. The paramedics came with a gurney in hand, bodies swathed in professional uniforms as their arms wrapped around Y/N’s body.

 

I answered to no one as I handed over Y/N, but I still tried to keep my hold over the wound. Figures bathed in white, hands clothed with sterile gloves tried to gently move me aside, but I stood like an aged tree that had found its home upon this earth. The screeching cry of the sirens were like a burning iron entering from one ear, through the next. I wanted to numb the panic, to drive it away but all I could do was lean into the source.  _ How did I.. I was supposed to..  _ I would willingly deliver myself to Cyberlife, and ask for a swift decommission but I’m beneath that mercy. The sirens grew more distant, the lights like flickering fireflies flying onto their next destination. 

 

^^ Software Instability

 

The quiet returned, and so did the deafening static in my ears. “Connor.” Hank had his hands on mine as he looked at me, his eyes silently somber. He was well meaning, I knew that. But, my only reply was to turn away, my back against his eyes. 

 

“Sorry, Lieutenant.” I felt a hole in my chest as I watched the ambulance cart Y/N away, but I knew now was not a moment to break down, so I did what I knew best. Closing my eyes, I reminded myself of the mission, the initial reason for why I was built. Without a word, I started walking back towards the basement. 

 

“Whoa, whoa,  _ whoa.  _ We should be goin’ to the hospital, come on.” Hank’s footsteps were heavy as he tried keeping up with me. He stood at the entrance of the basement, watching me disappear into the dark. 

 

“Yes, and we will once I’m finished.” There wasn’t anything else I needed from Andrew, aside from a copy of his internal memories, but nothing more. And yet, I grabbed hold of his corpse before dragging it out into the snow,hurling it onto the ground. Hank, horrified, stayed pinned to the basement door as he watched me. Nothing was said, only heavy breathing filled the air with the billowing howl of the wind. As the metal collided with the earth, thirium sprang forth from broken valves; his body was a metal shell whose parts were cracking on contact. 

 

_ Good. _

 

_ “ _ Connor.” Hank’s voice matched the stark darkness of this morning, grim and completely devoid of light.

 

Fear compelled me; for the first time, I ignored Hank. I always made the effort to answer to him, but I was mute as I initiated a probing with the barely functional chassis. Like water, Andrew’s memories flowed through me, coursing up my arm and into my mind. Glimpses of a past muddled by hate, physical trauma, and the scattered smiles of a small boy flooded my mind. I was becoming him, in a sense. I’ve seen the lives of countless other androids before, like films unwinding themselves before my eyes. But this picture, in particular, left me stained. 

 

“Oh, geez. Fucking Fowler, busting my balls and shit.” Hank started to shake from the cold, his arms wrapped around his boxy frame as he huddled under the door frame. 

 

My fingers began to crack the casing of his arm, my grip digging deeper into his circuitry. _Let go_. I got all the info I needed, but I didn’t stop. _Why aren’t you letting go?_ _Was I looking to remind myself of my shortcomings? Is this what guilt feels like? Is this why humans are afraid of the very word?_

 

“Connor? Connor!?” I felt Hank’s arm on my shoulder, pulling me back as my fingers finally embedded holes into the casing. “CONNOR!!” 

 

I let Hank hoist me up into the air, before falling back onto him. His body cushioned the impact as we were sprawled out on a thin sheet of snow, and rock. The white on my hands were still exposed, small traces of electricity still flickering in between my fingers. Overwhelmed with anger, Hank tossed me aside, struggling to catch his breath as with his hand on his chest. He cursed under his breath as I laid on the floor, limp while my eyes scanned the falling snow.  _ Oh, it’s starting to snow.. _ Not like I could feel anything to be concerned. I ignored Hank as he cursed under his breath. I took in the snow, flecks of white floating to the earth. I should be feeling the cold, the frost as it bites at my skin, but there was nothing both inside and outside. 

 

“Connor.. Get the fuck up.” Hank crawled up onto his knees as he looked down at me. He wrapped his hand around the collar of my shirt, shaking me while he spat out more expletives. Some of the thirium rubbed off onto his hands, leaving smudged fingerprints along the rim. 

 

“Connor, cut the-”

 

“Shit.” I finished his sentence for him, for whatever reason. Part of me wanted Hank to leave so that I could properly mull over my own existence, but I was afraid of being alone. 

 

Hank’s scowl became a foul grimace as he pulled me up to his face, his grip tightening as his eyes singed my skin. “ _ What  _ is wrong with YOU?” With every careful annunciation, Hank grew closer. “We need to get to the FUCKING hospital, so why’re you dicking around-?”

 

“Because I’m scared, Lieutenant.” I came off as dead, probably distant and nearly heartless. Hank recoiled from the sudden declaration. His grip loosened as he moved back, sitting with his hand on his knee. Disgruntled, he looked up at the sky as he breathed out, grunting and cursing again as the snowfall grew heavier. 

 

“... What are you  _ scared _ of, huh?” His tone was grave, almost vacant as the words left his lips. I looked over to Hank. He was looking off at a corner of the yard, rubbing together his index finger and thumb. 

 

Honesty was the one thing I feared in this moment; I tried to reassure myself with the gentle lie that silence was a sign of bravery. The absence of fear would indicate that one is brave according to the logic of humans.  _ At least, I think it does. _

 

“I’m scared of the possibility that Y/N will have died because of me. There would be nothing I can do to rectify the situation, and I’m deathly afraid of that.” My words were hollow, just as I was. If I were in the mood to be poetic, I would liken my internal strife to the sky, but that seems beyond my emotional capacity. I kept my eyes on Hank, waiting for an answer;  _ am I disappointed? _

 

There was nothing as the snow gathered along the inner lining of my jacket. As I blinked, the snow would fall into the bottom lid of my eyes. Hank was frosted around the edges, covered in a haze of white. I noticed a small pile had already started collecting around his shoulders. 

 

“Me too.” The second part came out muffled, as Hank started to grumble into the collar of his jacket. 

 

_ What?  _  My eyes widened, filled with bewilderment. “I'm not sure I foll-" 

 

“Oh Christ. I’m scared, Connor. I don’t want to just drive to the hospital, to what, wait for  _ fucking _ ever only to get bad news?! I’m not a fucking masochist.” Hank turned to me, beating his hands against his chest with clear frustration before letting them fall to into the snow. Raising his left hand, Hank was preparing to say something until a knot strangled the words out of him. His eyes were sad, drooped at the corners as he resigned to staring at the floor. 

 

_ I didn’t mean for that to happen. Is this what they call “regret”?  _ “Lieutenant..” I pushed myself off the floor, sitting up as I reached my hand out to Hank. He batted it away, apprehensive at the gesture.  _ I'm not mad, I dont have the right to be. _

 

^^ Software Instability

 

“Drop the formalities.” Hank was glaring up at me, eyes simmering with quiet anger. I felt my face flinch slightly at the sight of it. 

 

“I'm sorry then, Hank. I'm sorry for being a bad partner, and for compromising your safety.” I shook my head, struggling to pull forth a clear thought, anything to give my words weight. All I needed to hear was forgiveness, something to wipe away this stain on my psyche. 

 

“I don't want an apology.” Hank locked his eyes onto me, steady as they dissected my words. “I'll tell you what I want, Connor.”

 

My knees pressed together in anticipation. “What is it?” I had to try, and remember what I just said as the wind howled, deafening to the ears. Were it not for the gale, the silence between us would've felt more like a suffocating barrier; an obstruction in our paths to mutual understanding. 

 

Without a word, Hank stood from where he sat, legs entrenched in the earth. I was waiting for a verbal assault, and perhaps a physical one even. But, a hand was extended out to me; it was open, fingers outstretched as they welcomed mine. I was lost, but I gave Hank my hand in kind. 

 

“I want this mission to end.” Hank pulled me up, with some trouble, his arm like a mechanical crane that lifted me from a metaphorical pit. “I need this fucking nightmare to end, but you're what I need to make this stop.” 

 

I began to stutter and stammer, unexpectedly moved by seemingly ordinary words. Hank caught onto the effect, placing his hands on my shoulders in response as a way to steady me. “Connor. I've been a part of the force for more than 20 years. I've lost some good men, but I also got to send some of them home to their families. Now, what's it gonna be: are you gonna let Y/N go, or are you gonna take Y/N home?”

  
  


^^ Software Instability

 

Stunned, I choked down the words. Though the tears flowed, and though the shame was still apparent, I let these tears roll. Feeling, no,  _ being _ , human was exhausting, but I welcome this change. Pieces started lining up, and I began to feel whole little by little. I welcomed it with a weak nod, and sloppy sobbing as Hank gripped my shoulders. His eyes met mine with an empathic smile, a sincere and endearing sign of his newfound feelings. I can’t believe he was opening up like this, with me;  _ for humans, this should be a cause for celebration, correct?  _

 

I grabbed Hank's arms as they shook me with reassurance. I don't know how it was possible, but an electrifying high chased up and down along my limbs as we held onto each other like mad men in a blizzard. The release rekindled that motivation I had just lost. 

 

“Come on, we gotta go.” Hank patted me on the back, motioning me towards the car. We were approaching Andrew's corpse; Hank stopped, unbeknownst to me as I kept walking until I noticed he was missing. I turned around, and I saw Hank standing there with his hands in his pockets as the snow grew harsher. 

 

“Hank?” I noticed the malicious glint in his eyes for just a second, the snow obscuring the wrinkles in his face. Without hesitation, he spat into the face of the dead android, desecrating him further with a swift kick to the face. 

 

I wasn’t surprised, oddly enough. Taking one last look, he soon joined me as we continued our way to the car. Putting the car into ignition, Hank was silent as he put on his seat belt, grumbling a faint “motherfucker” as he adjusted his seat. He wasted no time to put the car into reverse, and out onto the main road as he sped to the hospital. I watched him closely during the ride, not saying a single word. At this point, silence became another language.

  
  
  


“You were lucky to have brought in Y/N when you did. I heard that the gunshot wound was sustained from..,” the doctor, a human male in his 30s, was reading over Y/N’s diagnostics on a tablet,” .. an encounter with a Deviant. Is that correct?” 

 

Hank was impatiently pacing the floor directly behind me as I spoke to the doctor. “Yes, that’s correct.” 

 

“I see, I see. Well, we were able to stabilize Y/N-” 

 

“Oh thank  _ God _ .” Hank took a deep breath as he plunged into an empty seat. Most of the staff seemed unphase by the loud scraping of the wooden chair as it skid across the floor. I also came under a deep swell of euphoria; I had trouble hiding my smile, but I knew the doctor could see my joy. A smile also crept on his lips as he continued shuffling through the files. 

 

“And, we managed to extract the bullet. It was minimally invasive, thank goodness. However, there is one thing I need you to keep in mind.” And with that, I felt my heart drop again. Hank’s blood pressure started to climb again. 

 

“Are there.. Complications?” I clenched my fist as I braced myself.

 

“No, there aren’t any complications. It will take up to three to six months for Y/N to recover, but only two weeks to be able to walk again.” 

 

“Oh, oh that’s, that’s great!” Hank leapt up, and grabbed both of my shoulders as he shook them uncontrollably. The zeal was getting to his nerves, but it did wonders for his blood pressure. 

 

“Yes, it’s lucky that the wound was treated so quickly. If you were to take even more than an hour, the peritonitis would’ve been fatal.” 

 

The tension within my body melted away, becoming small clumps of anxiety that was expelled from my body as the seconds passed. My chest was finally able to open up, letting the good news flood my systems like an infection that crept up to my lips, and into a smile. 

 

“That being said, Y/N is going to need a lot of bed rest. I’ve prescribed some painkillers to help make the recovery process as easy as possible. Once Y/N is discharged, they’ll be available at the pharmacy for pick up.”  He patted me on the back, shooting a quick smile before turning around to speak to another expectant family.  _ I hope they get good news _ . 

 

It dawned on me that I never asked if we could see Y/N; as if he could read my mind, Hank was already speaking to a nurse at the front desk. Within a quick exchange, Hank received Y/N’s room number and floor number. As Hank was about to leave, the nurse reached out to him by his sleeve. Confused, I swiveled back to the front desk, leaning forward as she motioned to us with her index finger. 

 

“Just a fair warning… the patient is under a heavy sedative, so don’t be surprised if Y/N is unconscious during this visit.” Her eyes carried the weight of an ugly truth, but she delivered it with the expected professionalism for people in her field. Hank and I nodded, giving a few quick “thank yous” before leaving for Y/N. 

The hallways were white, and pristine, walls painted with delicate coats of light gray. At every corner was a hand sanitizer dispenser, and each one was being used liberally by an employee. Silver carts containing covered trays of sanitization tools were pushed to, and from as masked interns fiddled with tablets containing news ranging from good, to bad. The air was stark, staying at a perfect 70 degrees in an attempt to maintain an antibacterial environment.

 

Hank lumbered behind me, his ragged breath falling upon my ears as he nestled together to make room for the nurses who rushed back, and forth.

 

“So.” Hank breathed out, clearly fatigued from the lack of sleep. 

 

“So?” It’s fair to assume that I wasn’t in the best state of mind myself, but we needed each other. 

 

“According to the doc, L/N isn’t gonna be up for conversation.” 

 

“Yes, clearly..” I thought of my words, what I had to say, and how I was going to say it. I didn’t know if it what I had ready would make much sense, but I didn’t want to act like a mute idiot after having been through so much together. I could try to be the optimist.  _ “Hi Y/N. I love you so much.” “So this is what it takes for you to get 8 hours of sleep.”  _ Or, perhaps the best route is to be as self - detrimental as possible.  _ “It’s my fault. If I wasn’t so incompetent, you’d be safe.” “I’m ready to die if anything happens to you.”  _ Luck would have it that we were right outside of Y/N’s room; the room was left wide open, leaving Y/N’s comatose body visible from the outside looking in. My mind was empty; whatever words I had selected, they were quickly disappearing from my memory. 

 

Hank looked down at his feet, talking to himself as he played with the insides of his pockets. His wrinkles were pulling back his eyes, deeply pensive as his eyes darted to and fro. I placed my a hand on his left shoulder; I felt knots and a great deal of tension as his muscles contracted and stretched underneath the palm of my hand. 

 

“It’s time, Hank.” 

 

“Yeah? You ready?” 

 

“No. Not at all.” Transparency was the best color for this occasion. 

 

The steady beeping of a heart monitor was the only noise in the room. The blinds were left half open, a perfect view of the glittering snow that was falling in piles. An IV dripped on silently, doing its job as Y/N’s chest dropped and rose in undetectable motions. A plastic curtain draped beside the hospital bed, obscuring Y/N’s face like some morbid veil. I took small steps forward, feeling my chest fall apart as I gazed upon the bruises from Andrew’s vicious assault.  _ Oh my god. Y/N.. _ Hank’s face twisted with pain as he took a seat beside the hospital bed; with both hands, he cupped Y/N’s hand between his, watching closely as faltered breaths were taken. Y/N’s face was in a state of peace, eyes both closed as the muscles were devoid of any tense emotions. At the mercy of my emotions, I blinked several times to keep the tears from falling, a hand pressed against my chest to keep the misery at bay. I slowly crept down on my knees, elbows resting on top of the hospital bed as I laid my head beside Y/N’s right arm. My finger tried to make contact, albeit delicate, but I pulled back my hand.  _ Maybe I shouldn’t. I can’t _ . 

 

A nurse peered into the room, gazing upon me with a dismissive glare; Hank, in all of his grief, still had the energy to reply with his own signature scowl, this time with a little teeth. The nurse sped off after that, probably eager to talk about the freak of an android who was pretending to be a boy. I didn’t care, not like anything else mattered more than Y/N’s health at this point. I looked over at Hank for a moment, taking in the weight of his shoulders, the dishelvement of his hair, and the look of pure, unadulterated dread in his eyes as he looked up at the IV drip and then Y/N. Hank looked back, nodding slightly as he tried to hide a stray tear peeking from the corner of his eye; I reached over Y/N and lightly gripped Hank’s hands as a sign of solidarity. I stayed on my knees, allowing my body to mold to the shape of the bed, my core pumping silently against the frame. I had forgotten about my injuries until now, not noticing the apparent gunshot wound in my left shoulder until the thirium had leaked onto the bed. Cleanup should be easy as the thirium would only need a few more hours before completely dissipating. 

 

I wanted these two weeks to pass already. Waiting was going to be like a death sentence for my impatience, a punishment befitting of a failure like myself. But, I wasn’t in the position to ask, let alone even  _ beg. _ Hank was in the middle of roughly wiping away a tear, stopping right as his face turned tomato red. He looked up, completely shocked. 

 

“Fowler? When you’d get here?” And just like clockwork, Captain Fowler was waiting by the door, a powerful glower hung on his face he stepped through the door. 

 

“You were supposed to call after arriving at the crime scene.” Fowler stepped up to me, causing me to rise to my feet immediately. Ashamed, and flustered, I looked over to Hank in the hopes that he had something to say.  _ Was Fowler always this tall?  _ As Fowler walked closer to Y/N, I stepped aside; normally reserved, he shook his head as he took in the wounds. Hardly a man for symapthy, I felt moved.  

Unwrapping his hands from Y/N’s, Hank stood up as he leaned against the hospital bed for support. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed him wipe away a tear. “My fault. I didn’t meant to sca-” 

  
  


Fowler interjected with expert precision. “Naturally, when I find out that an  _ officer _ was carted off to the hospital after getting shot in the gut, I was able to assume it was one of two things: either Hank Anderson got what was coming to him, or L/N was reckless.” 

 

_ An astute observation. Impressive _ . At a loss for words, Hank accepted the cold response as he tiredly chuckled to himself. “Yeah.. yeah, you’re not wrong bout that.” 

 

“I’m never wrong, Anderson.” While Hank was struggling to maintain composure as his hands meandered in between the sheets of the hospital bed, and his pockets, Fowler stayed cold and ever judging. I stood in between them, gazing over at Y/N as I thought about how I would go about making the next two weeks fly by in seconds. 

 

“Stop that.” Fowler’s eyes widened, alert with shock. “The day you’re sensible is the day I grow my hair back.” 

 

“You believe in miracles now? Sheesh.” Feeling freer than he has all day, a cocky smirk stretched across his face. 

 

Fowler dipped his head, a slight smile appearing on his lips as he looked back up at Hank before it quickly disappeared. Heart rate accelerating at the rate of a speeding car, I could feel the ice in Hank’s veins as his grin faded away into a fearful quiver of the lip.

 

“You’re suspended, Anderson.” Fowler’s delivery was firm, a deafening command that would not go unheard. My feet were weak as I saw Hank’s face fly into a contortion of rage; he rushed over to Fowler, ready to knock the wind out of him until I restrained him. 

 

“Hank, this isn’t the time. You’ll lose your job!” With my arms wrapped around his chest, I was able to hold him back as his chest heaved against my hands. 

 

“What the  _ fuck  _ you talking about, Fowler? I didn’t DO SHIT TO--” 

 

“For more than 20 fucking years, Anderson, you’ve been a never ending force of carnage in the force. Believe me when I say your discplinary record would bring  _ Tolstoy back from the dead. _ ” Fowler stood resolute as he glared into Hank’s eyes. 

 

Hank was ready to launch himself, hands flying for Fowler’s face; every time he reached, my hands shot up like shields to parry the attacks. “Hank, please don’t - I apologize for this, Captain.” 

 

“I dedicated my FUCKING LIFE to the force, and you shit on me like I’m some fucking DOG?!!” A glob of spit flew from Hank’s mouth and onto Fowler’s face. An impassive hand wiped it away with an embroidered handkerchief, but the eye contact stayed as Hank finally grabbed Fowler by the collar. 

 

“You never let me finish.” Fowler’s face was stiff like a statue, uncaring of Hank’s ascension to animal hood. “I just think it’s better for an emotionally unstable, and alcoholic of a lieutenant to take time away from the station. Since, after all, he’ll only end up being a liability.” 

 

“You wouldn’t have been a fucking  _ captain _ if this alcoholic didn’t  _ carry your as- _ ” I stepped back, watching as Hank collided against Fowler with both his hands practically unwounding Fowler’s tie as he balled up his shirt into a clump of cotton. 

 

“And by taking time off, you can say it’s like a  _ vacation _ .”  

 

Realization suddenly dawning upon Hank, his face dropped into a relaxed bout of confusion. “While you’re at it, take Connor with you. I believe he deserves a break, too” I checked my hearing, I even checked my overall thirium levels to ensure that I wasn’t malfunctioning, at least, not as much as Hank was. 

 

“Wh-what…” His hands dropped, retracting into himself as Fowler straightened out his collar. Hank simultaneously straightened himself out, attempting to stand proud as he spoke to Fowler with a wavering tone.  _ Was he confused? Thankful? Touched?  _ “Why?” 

 

Silently, without a word, Fowler stepped closer to Y/N as he plucked a note from the inside of his pocket, placing it on the table beside the bed. “Because I remember what happened with Cole.” 

 

_ Cole, Hank’s son, a young boy who died at age six.  _

 

Hank didn’t respond, choosing to let Fowler steer the conversation as his words stewed over. I remember the grief, the discovery of the cause behind Hank’s downward spiral. I placed my hand on his shoulder, looking to Fowler. 

 

“I didn’t do what was necessary as both your superior, and your  _ friend _ . I watched you drink yourself into oblivion, and the addiction took you whole while all I did was.. Well, nothing.” 

 

With a slight tremble, Hank tried to find the right words. “Fow- Jeffrey, it’s nothin’. None of that was your fault.” 

 

Fowler walked up to Hank, shaking his head as he looked back from me to Hank. “Doesn’t change a thing. I know what I feel, and I’d like to be here, for once.” 

 

_ I understand why your men respect you now. _ As I smiled, Hank shook Fowler’s hand before Fowler began leaving the room. “One week, with pay.” Fowler winked, and turned as his coat flipped with a flourish. His eyes stayed on the door frame, seemingly focused on memorizing its entirety as his head was reeling from Fowler’s sudden turn of kindness. Today has been unkind, and truly a grating challenge for both our psyches. I was in dire need of a thirium transfusion, and my skin was ready to peel off, but I’d sooner let my body fall apart than put my interests ahead of the group. 

 

“Hank?” 

 

“Yeah?” Sorrowful, that’s the right word to describe Hank. 

 

“I’m still sorry.. About Cole.” I tested the waters, I moved closer to offer my condolences with an open hand. With a degree of hesitance, my open palm became a hug as Hank buried his face against my shoulder. It could've been the thirium leaking from my shoulder, but my mind was empty as I held Hank, still grieving over a decade long loss. For me, the inevitability of death was a foreign concept, one that I couldn’t grasp much like water that just slipped in between my fingers. But now, as Hank held on without so much as speaking a word, a visceral sense of clarity overcame me. I started to shake, my core throbbing.

 

^^ Software Instability

 

The words keep flashing before my eyes; it’s been like a curse, plaguing me every step of the way.  _ Curse?.. Or a blessing?  _ The blessing started to feel like a pound of lead, pushing down against my chest as I felt my own bravery crumple into a pitiful pile. Crumbling away into dust, my courage was reaching its expiration date. I wish I could rest, and forget that everything that happened today was my fault, but that would be wistful thinking. Illogical are my wishes;  _ I wonder, what would Y/N think? _

 

“My back.”  _ What? _ “CONNOR!”  _ Oh. _ I unwrapped my arms, and a crack followed some loud groaning as Hank anchored back onto the heels of his feet, attempting to balance himself. 

 

“Aw, I guess Cyberlife thought of everythin- ugh shit.”  Hank rubbed his back with a face of exasperation. Whatever stiffness there was left in his spine is gone now, thanks to me. “You a chiropractor, too?” 

 

“Ha, I didn’t mean to use that much force, Hank. Can you walk?” 

 

His glare was like a blade held to my throat; and yet, I only chuckled in response. “Since all of that has been sorted out, I think you should get a start on your vacation. Don’t you?” Hank snorted, rebuking my suggestions, but I was already pushing him along out the door before he noticed. As soon as he regained some footing, Hank dug into the ground with the ball of his foot; we were stuck in a sort of humorous entanglement, hands and all, until I finally let go. 

“I’m not leaving yet. Still got some unfinished business myself.” Nodding towards Y/N, Hank shot me a knowing look. Understanding that I was in no way ready to leave, Hank made no effort to convince me otherwise. I was hoping to do this alone, but that was a pipe dream.  _ This will either be touching, or embarrassing. _ He walked past me, hand sliding along the foot end of Y/N’s bed. Hank was the picture of a caring father, a man softly adjusting the sheets and tending to the body of their sleeping child.  _ Sleeping. I wish it was just that. _

 

“Can I be honest with you?” Y/N’s chest rose, and dropped, face as peaceful as a corpse. 

 

“I don't know what to say either.” Hank’s voice was hardly a whisper, let alone even a whimper. 

 

Was I wrong to be afraid, to live in fear of what's to come?  _ Oh god, oh god, I can't. Please. _ I could feel the thirium as it raced through my aortic cavities, flowing down into the veins of my legs as I started seeing double.  _ Are these.. problems in my programming?  _

 

I tried to keep it to myself, hidden from the prying eyes of Hank.  _ Take it back. _ Crying again for the hundredth time, I shut my eyes and coiled my fingers around the quilted starch of the blanket. Hank brushed a finger along Y/N’s cheek, leaving remnants of love in his trail as he rested his head against Y/N’s stomach. I took in the moment, letting Hank get his share of bereavement as I closed my eyes to keep the tears from falling. 

 

“I think you should start.” Hank's voice possessed the air of a funeral attendant. His vocal cords strained with the woeful pressure of a waiting family member who could do nothing else, but await for the dice to fall.  _ You can't put this on me. I can't do this. I.. _ But I had to. I opened myself to the burden, letting the pain flow in as I had trouble deciding where to place my hands.  _ The traditional choice would be the hands, but that's also a cliche. Or I could forego any contact, and just stand.  _

 

“You running on dial up or something?” Hank’s  patience started to ran dry, and his temper was even more nonexistent. 

 

“You first. Do the honors.” I waved at Hank, giving him my blessings to expose his heart first. I took a nearby chair and pulled it up to the bed, sitting back as Hank scowled.

 

“You gotta be-- ok. Ok.” Eating his words, Hank ruminated on the right words, prose that reflected the turmoil without the colorful embellishments. In his own words, “none of that get well soon bullshit.” His fingers danced shapes along the breaks in the blanket, mentally digging for an honest sentiment of paternal love; that well has long dried out, but there must be a droplet left still. One breath in, and another out, and Hank opened up another layer of himself. 

 

“I don’t know how the reception is, you know, over in whatever the fuck kind of afterlife… but.. I hope you’re listening, Y/N.” He paused, sucking in a bit of air through his nose, his breathing sounded congested. “ _ I’m sorry _ for letting that punk get the jump on me. Maybe if I didn’t get knocked out, then you wouldn’t-” The tears rolled down like a stream. Heat started to build along my eyes, and my throat began to shake with the realization that this was  _ actually happening. _ As it clenched, I tried swallowing the air, tiny gasps escaping from my mouth with every breath.  _ Keep it together. _

 

“ -then you wouldn’t need to take a bullet to the gut. You’d be standing here, with that stupid ass smart mouth of yours, going on and on about how the case was a success, that we got the perp, and that Fowler was gonna be so  _ damn _ pleased.” Hank’s words were strangled by the tears as he tried desperately to hold on. I was ready to give up, to let the facade fall and break, but I couldn’t so I clenched my teeth as my eyes gravitated from Hank, to Y/N. The fire started to spread throughout my chest; why did this feel more like a funeral than a visit? 

 

^^ Software Instability

 

The shameless candor of Hank’s words forced me to think of the grim reality that Y/N is flesh and blood, not man made alloy fashioned to resist the elements. Y/N could be plucked from me, and I’d be unable to do a thing. All I would do is stand there watching as Y/N is carted off, and my only response would be “what is my next mission?” I promised myself that was a day for another time, and I will work to prevent it from ever becoming Y/N’s fate. Hands gripped together, nails threatening to whittle my skin down to the metal, the muscles in my jaw pulled back as to brace me for what’s to come. With all of this supposed fortitude, why is it, then, that I was on my knees, hands cupped together to send my pleas up to an invisible deity who may care not for the affairs of mortals. 

 

“You didn’t take a bullet for  _ nothing, Y/N, I swear.  _ Kid, because of you, we got what we needed to close this case. It’s because of  _ you _ , and that big fucking brain of yours, that a Deviant got put down. You did good, kid, you did  _ good. _ ” As he tucked his chin in, the tears rolled onto Hank’s shirt; some snot had found its way onto his collar, stringy as it hit the cotton. He put up a hand to catch the mucus before continuing, crying into his palm as he struggled to speak. The longer he went on, the harder and faster my tears poured onto the bed sheets; I hid my face out of shame, because I started to believe that Y/N may be watching me in spirit.

 

“And, and I just wanna say kid.. Me and Connor are proud, but if you go off into the light, you won’t be here to see it. We  _ love you _ , so much.” And then he was done, finished, unable of shouldering anymore sorrow as Hank quickly got up and left the room. Judging from the metal scraping against the floor, it seems that he had kicked over a chair on his way out.

 

I was slow to raise my head; I didn’t have the right words, or the right approach to give Y/N a deserved delivery. I felt stupid for being on my knees this entire time, kneeling for nothing. But, the emotionless expression that Y/N wore was enough to bring my heart back down into the pit that I was trying to climb out of. 

 

It’s true when they say that a heart was a heavy burden, but they never speak of how the rib cage is too weak when carrying such burden. We were finally alone, save for the IV drip and the constant beeping of the hospital equipment, but we were alone. It was just the two of us, so I gathered some of my fractured bravery to hold Y/N’s hand as I placed a kiss. From an outsider’s perspective, this was the classic image of a lover waiting for their beloved to return home from an unexpected journey.Perhaps one’s heart would melt at the sight of me waiting  It joins the library of tragedy, except this would only be the case if I wasn’t inhuman; it sounds cold of me to say, but it’s the truth. So, instead of soft glances of admiration for my loyalty, I only receive sneers and looks of disgust as I hold onto Y/N. 

 

Though I should be feeling a certain degree of hate, I failed to. Instead, the thought of the future and its challenges for Y/N and I fueled my words.  _ I don’t need anything flowery, Y/N wouldn’t like that.  _ Part of me felt some peace at the thought of that.  _ I’m still learning the ropes, so bear with me.  _

 

“..I’m not sure if you remember the first day we met. At the time, it seemed pointless and coincidental. I don’t know how you found out Hank’s address, but you were there at the front door with your hand out. You must have thought ‘wow, I get to work with Lieutenant Anderson, how exciting.’ At least, that’s what I  _ think _ your thought was before he scoffed and slammed the door in your face. That’s when I opened the door, and introduced myself; according to my social relations protocol, that was the best thing to do. And, am I glad I did it. It was normal at first, the way you looked at me like I was different, but I still belonged.” I took a second to take in Y/N’s face. Admittedly, I was holding my breath so that I could suppress the tears that were ready to fly out any second. 

 

But, the memory of meeting Y/N for the first time left me smiling slightly as I picked up from where I last left off. I came closer, resting the fingers of my left hand along Y/N’s cheek. “It’s funny,  _ I think _ , when looking back at how I met the most important person in my life. Maybe it’s.. The sorrow, or the dread that’s making me so sentimental, but I keep replaying that moment in my mind  _ over and over again _ . With your right hand, you reached out to me. After shaking your hand, I remember inviting you in to sit with us. The table was cluttered, and Sumo nearly tackled you when you walked in.” I nodded slightly, thinking about the events that followed afterwards. 

 

“I thought nothing of how you laughed, and how you would always call out to Sumo with the most cheerful voice possible at first. However, like with all things, I only needed time to process what was happening. To be honest.. During my initial self checks, I thought that there was something wrong with me, that my program’s integrity had been compromised. I think, even from the beginning, I started to see a pattern, but I kept lying to myself. Every time I looked for too long, or my hand would linger two seconds too long, I’d brush it off. But then, I started making excuses for myself; I thought of ways to spend more time with you, through work or just by being a friend. What scared me.. Was how I wanted,  _ needed _ more. But, how do I do that without risking our friendship?” I felt the tears as they crept back into my eyes; I felt an aching soreness in my throat, something akin to a strain in my vocal cords. It showed in my face as my skin pulled back around my eyes, pushing my brows into an anguished furrow. 

 

“And, you know what? I was lying, from the beginning, Y/N. I lied about EVERYTHING.” I covered my mouth, looking out the door as I tried to quell the crying. “Every time I said ‘I love you’, I was hoping to hear you say it back. I needed to know that you felt the same, but I was too afraid. Then, I realized that maybe I wasn’t being clear enough; I thought a proposal would serve to bring us closer. I even lied about my feelings then. If I just kept pretending to be an idiot, maybe you would’ve confessed and then we could’ve laughed about the whole thing. But, the more I think about it, the more I  _ hate _ myself for not being straightforward.” I smoothed my hair back with my hand as my tears were ceaseless. “I love you, Y/N, I love you and I feel like I’m  _ dying _ because the timing is cruel.” I couldn’t go any further from there. As my muscles tightened, and my insides began to light on fire, I stayed seated as my shirt became wet with tears.  _ Are you going to hate me when you wake up? Are you going to wake up.. At all?  _

 

I asked myself this for the next two weeks. For the next 336 hours, I didn’t leave your side as I waited patiently for the day I could see your eyes open. I needed to see your smile, I needed to hear your laugh, and I wanted to make up for the time I spent being a vague moron. As I changed the flowers in your vase, I left a note every single day in preparation for the second I get to hear you say my name again. “Connor”. My heart would race every time, a reminder that I was becoming human after all. It’s cheesy, I know, and you’re going to laugh at me once you read these notes, but I don’t care anymore. I even held onto the ring that I used to propose to you that night. It’s wistful thinking, but I know what I want; and all I want, is for this to be you and me, onward and forever. 


	6. Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Night comes, and morning goes, and here's to a new day. The love of your life is in your grasps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's here, It's done, and IT'S FINALLY THE END OF THIS CRAZY RIDE! So, what do I say to end my first official series? It's kind of crazy to think that I wrote this out of all the passionate love, and admiration I had for the beautiful works I saw throughout the DBH fandom. People were pouring out their souls to tell these unique narratives, and I got swept into the frenzy soon after. I've met friends along the way, through connections and distances that would've kept us apart otherwise. 
> 
> Your words, your kudos, and your reads mean so much to me. As I opened up more and more of myself to you guys, I was met with love that I never thought my work would receive. I didn't think I would be able to craft something personal with a full time work schedule, wonky Wi-Fi, and emotional disorders left and right. But, you guys kept rooting me on to do just that, and you have my eternal gratitude for it. So, from one fan to the next, I hope you love the finale. Also, I hope you guys will also love the future one shots I have in mind. I'd like to take a step back from writing another series to focus on more self contained stories. Keep up with me on my writing Tumblr @mela-chronic! If you're interested in keeping up with my future updates, you'll find everything you'll need there. Send me a few requests, messages, carrier pigeons, the works!

“The weather looks nice today. It seems that we'll be getting some sunlight for once. The birds look like they're having fun.” fun beside the window was an aged tree, a rare sight in the city, with a nest of blue jays nestled together against the chill. “Though, the Deviant cause has picked up some traction. A Deviant by the name of Markus is the self proclaimed leader of the movement, which makes things a lot more complicated.” 

 

As of today, the sun was high and the sky was clear for once, devoid of any clouds that were common in Detroit’s skyline. Today’s bouquet of flowers consisted of irises and tulips, a Hank Anderson special. Flowers from other friends, surprisingly one of them being Detective Reed, began to overflow off the side of a table. Though Hank is a great detective, he makes for a poor florist; judging from the mangled appearance of the stems, he misjudged his grip.  _ Always bracing. _ They looked prettiest beside the windowsill, or at least they did to me, where the sunlight could fall on its petals. He left a note with some illegible chicken scrawl, but I could tell the words were at least sincere. 

 

“Am I wrong to feel some sympathy for their cause, Y/N?” I folded the note; some things were better left between two people. 

 

The hospital staff were used to my presence, so much so that they no longer gave me funny looks whenever I would come and go as I please. After folding one of the quilts for the hundredth time, I sat down, taking out a small stationery set that I had picked up at the gift shop. Placing the notepad on my thigh, I bit the tip of my pen as I tried coming up with today's words. At first, the words came slow because of my own hesitance, but once I put aside my pride I became more emboldened with my feelings. The fear began to fade with every declaration, as it should. Looking over to the table of bouquets, I counted the notes I've been able to amass;  _ one… two… three…. Four….six…. Ten… Precisely 32 notes _ . 

 

The day wore on as usual, the sun setting gradually as hospital staff began changing shifts left and right. Only 48 hours had passed, but I grew anxious still; I was told that the wound would be completely healed over in two weeks time, but I tired of waiting. Because of the heavy sedation, Y/N struggled to remain conscious; there were some glimmers of awareness, but Y/N would only mutter incomprehensible phrases. For the last 24 hours, it has been nothing but MRIs, and x-rays to pinpoint any additional damage to the surrounding tissue. I was nearing the end of my note, looking out the window to see that twilight had come.  _ The sky.. _ There was a blend of pink and blue, mixing with one another to create a purple tint that spread throughout the pale sky. As the sun sunk closer to the horizon, it shined a bright orange. It was like it refused to give up its time in the spotlight, desperate to hang on until the very end. 

 

There was a sense of melancholy with how the sun was against leaving its post. Its light would follow wherever it went, the orange dyeing the blue as it grew more hidden. Unrelenting, day was fearful of becoming night. I looked over to Y/N. Not a sign of struggle, or pain, but a sad sight that tug at my heart nonetheless.  _ So, this is what caring feels like _ . I signed my note with cursive flourish, though I don’t know why I would need to do that when it’s pretty obvious who’s been writing the message. I folded it into a small square, and tucked it underneath the pile of bouquets with the rest of the other notes. 

 

Night began to crawl and make its presence known; the sun became increasingly transparent as the minutes ticked by. Combined, the orange and pink illuminated the sky with a flash of purple, the night beckoned by the canvas that was prepped just for it.  _ It's been almost 32 hours now, hasn't it?  _ After the last note, it should've been. I took my place in the white armchair beside Y/N. Searching for signs of awareness, I tugged lightly at Y/N’s fingers; there was the occasional mumble, the shift in the sheets.

 

The impatience started to settle in. I wanted out of this drama, to no longer be a viewer, but the chance of being the first person to greet Y/N keeps me posted. I dragged my thumb along the skin of Y/N’s hand. 

 

“You're taking awhile to come home, Y/N…” The day began coming to a draw, the sun disappearing completely from the sky as twilight covered the city in a dim veil. “I've been biting my lip a lot, as of late. I think it's a habit I picked up from you… You do it a lot whenever you're stressed.” I giggled to myself. _Someone_ _needs to laugh._ Then, I realized how crazy I must have sounded; though, in retrospect, this situation is nothing short of _crazy_.

 

“Did you ever think you'd be here right now, Y/N? Not, not in a coma, but.. with me?”  _ What am I doing? _  Stupid question; I knew what I was doing, or at least attempting to do. “All your life, did you think you were going to find yourself in another?” How I wished for a moment to look into Y/N’s mind, to understand what complete darkness was like on the other side. 

 

I came close, laying my forehead gently against Y/N’s. I could smell the sterility of the sheets, the concentrations of copious cleaning solutions as I took in Y/N’s visage.  _ Talking is lonely when I'm the only one doing it, Y/N. _ This was like a museum; I would look on passively, taking in the image of works created by celebrated artists. Y/N was so close, yet out of reach. 

 

“Stupid question.”I grew impatient, gripping the sheets as I thought about the chances that Y/N’s was an outlier. Maybe the wound won't take up to 48 hours to start healing considerably.  _ What if-  _ The thoughts nailed against my head like pulsating bullets. I shook slightly, hands loosening their grip on the blanket as my fingers parted.  _ Why do I keep messing up? Is there something wrong with me?  _ I didn’t need to hear the answer for I was to frightened by the possibility that a funeral may be in the works. I left my seat for the window, perched against it like some brooding figure out of a Byronic novel. My reflection in the glass was tired, and a bit world weary. My suit was still torn along the wound that left my skin in tatters. I held a hand up to the wound, slightly digging my index finger into the small hole left by the bullet. I felt nothing, as expected, but there was an apparent emptiness. I traced the circular exit, scanning the diameter of the jagged edges. 

 

The sky started to become a dark blue by the time Y/N’s vitals were recorded again. _Not another day._ The blue jays had stopped their singing, and were instead nestled closely together against the cold. “Not another 24 hours”. I whispered to myself, looking over at Y/N out of the hope that I’d be met with a response. _Hope, a funny thing._ I felt the ticking of my LED, a yellow circle projected onto the wall as I sat back into the chair. I hate that I couldn't feel tired, that I didn't have the choice of sleep to pass the time. All I had was biding my time, by staring into the eggshell white of the wall across from me. _Wouldn't hurt to close my eyes, at least.._ There won’t be any dreams tonight. I leaned into the cushion of the armchair, my eyes darting to and from different corners of the room. My legs stretched out against the floor. I looked at the time once more; _6:26 PM._ “Shit.” I muttered to myself, hands folded together. I looked over to Y/N; my eyes seemingly felt heavy from the anticipation. 

 

_ I love you.. please, come home. _

 

I closed my eyes, eclipsing the sight of Y/N’s gentle face.  _ Here's to another 24 hours.  _

  
  


I felt heavy, or I think I did. A fog hung over my eyes, obscuring my vision as I tried to make sense of my surroundings beyond the slits between my lashes. I couldn't make out the individual sensations, aside from how it seemed like my body was hooked up to several wires, but I believe a tight wound of plastic was clamped to my face.  My breathing was audible, hoarse yet steady, and my limbs were like lead.  _ What the fuck.. _ I was in a hospital bed, in a hospital room, in….  _ Is this a hospital?  _ The heavy scent of industrial cleaners, and the sight of an IV drip offered an affirmative yes. Did I want to scream, or did I want to fly off this bed instantly? My mind was faster than my body, which felt like a slab of stone unyielding to my will.  _ Fuck.  _ There was an uncomfortable dampness that had settled between my thighs, and underneath my legs. The sweat has probably left an impression in the sheets, granted that I haven’t had the opportunity to actually move like a human should.  _ Where, where’s-?  _ Connor. The weak blood  My mind spoke the words that my lips couldn’t; they were chapped, breaking into clumps of skin so dry that I could cut my lips against one another had I tried to speak. All I could raise was a finger, weakly, in his direction.

 

Looking down at my right hand, I saw the module for the nurse call button right below it.  _ No, no that wouldn’t be a good idea.  _ Calling a nurse would be, for lack of a better term, fucking idiotic to do right now. But, there wasn’t anyway I would be able to move right now either. My body had left a deep imprint in the cushion of the mattress, and I felt like a hollow husk of a person.  _ Gotta get up. _ I placed both hands along the frame of the bed, pushing against the plastic with the palm of my hands; my torso refused to budge, my legs unwilling to move. The beeping on the heart monitor became frantic, as did I, and I wanted nothing else to be free of these cords. I mouthed silent words that couldn’t escape my lips as several breaths began to shake my chest.  _ I-I can’t move _ . I fell back into my pillow as my eyes shot up to the ceiling. There was a nervous zap travelling throughout my eyes. Feeling out of place wouldn't suffice; I wasn't even sure if I was still occupying the same plane as everyone else. 

 

Then, I remembered;  _ Connor?... has he been here the entire time _ ? I tried checking the time, but my watch was obviously not with me.  _ Fucking shit.  _ With what little mobility I had, I tried craning my neck as I surveyed the room for a clock. The face read 7:09;  _ morning… how many days?..  _ The heart monitor rang like a drill; my hands moved messily to distinguish one wire from the next. Wriggling in between strips of plastic, my fingers became tangled; the ceaseless beeping was pounding against my head. Like a needle pricking each of my pores, my sanity was peeled back with the unrelenting noise. 

 

It happened; some loud scraping against the floor, and next thing I know the armchair is sliding to an abrupt stop at the foot of my bed.  _ What the fu--?  _ I freaked out for a second; was there a ghost?  _ I fucking hate ghosts _ . I clenched my fists, the lack of oxygen left positions that attacked the fleshy membrane of my mind. But, I realized that all I needed was to look up. 

 

_ Connor.  _

 

Him. It was him. He seemed as radiant as the first time we met. A pale, white light encircled him with a gentle hug. 

 

“Connor…?” The beeping ceased, my heart rate came to a steady, and consistent rhythm. I used all my strength, channeled it into my right hand just so I could pry off my mask. He stopped me. His fingers were cold, not like I expected them to be warm, but I felt the chill spread onto me. 

 

“Keep it on.” Firm, quiet, insistent, and commanding, Connor’s voice was like a threatening storm. It was sterile, and clinically nurturing, my heart was lulled to a trance like state as I watched the light bounce from his eyes. 

 

“...Alright.” My chest hardly settled, shaking as my heart was filled with the burning mirthe of a bird waiting for its cage door to fly free. I’m not trapped, but I am indisposed for the time being; what a great way to be indisposed, might I add. 

 

It was another one of those shared silences. The light would slink its way into the room, sliding out as it kept track of us. We were painfully, dolefully aware of our shared touch starvation, but we kept it distant. Connor looked at me like I was distant memory, cropping up slowly and out of nowhere in the quiet recesses of mind during respite. Me? I’m sure I looked like a vacuous pug. 

 

“Did it hurt?” He broke eye contact, licking his lips as his eyes tightened at the corners. I needed to spare him. 

 

“...No. All I felt was a poke, and it’s like I fell asleep.” I could feel that my tongue was dry, and that my throat began to feel swollen from being unable to drink anything after enduring a near two day coma. 

 

“Don’t lie to me, Y/N.” He would be able to tell I’m lying; my heart rate betrayed my intentions every step of the way. 

 

“It did hurt, Connor. But it  _ hurt _ , because it was a  _ bullet,  _ Connor.” I already knew why he was asking. The guilt, the pain, oh it was palpable and it filled the air with a stench that nearly triggered my gag reflex.

 

Connor shook his head, eyes closed as he continued to hover over me. Lips pursed, with eyes that refused to open for fear of tears falling loose, he lightly laid his head against my torso. 

“Yeah, I know it hurt.  _ I know. _ ” That was all he could muster. Vague, and a patchwork answer, I left it as it was. I brushed his hair back, as I stared up at the ceiling; silence, and more quiet.  _ Were things different?  _ They aren’t, technically. Detroit looks the same, at least from this point of view. I’m still in the same time period, I haven’t leapt into another age of humanity. Then, why is it that… the earth has been disturbed and the dust hasn’t settled like it has before? A crack emerged within me, splintering my faith and the temporary happiness I achieved just three days ago. I was scared, and frantically anxious for what the next hour may carry. What frightened me most, however, wasn’t how I was going to heal from this wound; it was the thought of my shred of normalcy being taken away from me, and replaced with the unpredictable.

  
  


The next few hours were awash with gray. Was it cliche to say that the world looked like a blur, or did it only become a cliche because of how often, and how  _ true _ , the statement was? I was caught in the middle of a monotone menagerie, a moving picture of doctors and nurses playing their hospital opera. I felt pieces of myself return to me over time, but again, they were just pieces. My focus, my spirit, they were shattered and turned into pitiful fragments as I watched professionals try to sew me back together. 

 

In the corner of the room, Connor would stand watch, never leaving even though he had the spirit of an empty crypt. I would sink in and out of consciousness, helplessly floating on the edge of sleep. I felt numb to the constant poking, the prodding, and the copious amounts of questioning. I know the nurses, and doctors were only do their jobs, but man was I getting  _ freaking _ annoyed. The skin over my wound had healed, creating a circular scar that looked like a small pebble pushing against the flesh. Underneath my finger, it felt disgusting in a sense. It was like something had burrowed its way into me, and made my decaying body its new home. 

 

Surrounding me was a wall of endless bouquets, an unending ocean of roses, peonies, calla lilies, and an orchid or two.  _ Orchids are a funeral flower… but ok. _ The vases were adorned with ribbons, some pink and some yellow, but they all possessed the same dollar store charm. I didn’t think I’d ever receive this many flowers, but I guess all I needed to do was get shot.  _ Don’t I feel like a celebrity. _ I smiled to myself as the petals began to blend together, multi color swatches becoming overlayed with specks of green. They began to become one with the hospital walls themselves, but at the bottom of the blurs was a collection of white.  _ What are those _ ? The murmuring of the staff began to sound like fingers prodding against glass. As I squinted, I could make out a stack of…  _ papers?  _ But, why paper? 

 

“Y/N?” 

 

“Oh, uh, yes? Sorry.” I almost twisted my neck, as I quickly looked up to the doctor who probably spent a good five minutes trying to get my attention. 

 

“Sorry, you're just coming off the effects of the painkillers. Are you still experiencing dizziness, and a sensitivity to light?” His pen moved in quick patterns, flitting from one side to the next on the clipboard 

 

I nodded weakly, trying hard to not fall asleep. “I see.” He seemed to be checking off boxes, as his pen moved in diagonal streaks. “That's normal, perfectly fine.” His hand lightly slapped the end of my bed frame. “I'm going to prescribe a couple more antibiotics, which you will need to take 3 times a day until they're  _ all _ finished.” 

 

I nodded along as he handed me my prescription slips. “I'll also be signing your discharge paperwork. You’ll be out of here by..” He took a quick peek at his watch. “Noon today!” Within the same minute, he was off to the next patient. I could finally breathe; he spoke so fast and professionally, I swear to  _ God _ it was like I was holding onto the same breath for five minutes straight. 

 

However, I noticed that something was off; though there is the shuffling of feet and gurneys going on in the hallways, the room was left with an ominous coat of dread. The reason for it, probably, was standing over by the window. 

 

“So, you’ll be getting discharged by 12 PM today, Y/N?” With his arms neatly crossed behind his back, Connor kept his eyes on the window as he spoke in a hushed tone. I felt uneasy, and my stomach began to seize up with acid, but I ignored it. 

 

“Yeah, thank goodness, right?” I felt a quiver in my voice. I folded my hands, gripped my fingers tightly while Connor was busying himself with the falling leaves outside our window. Nothing, just the beeping and dripping of hospital equipment. I could feel the wall between us, the barrier that Connor had propped up following the events of the last three days. I wanted to tell him that it wasn’t his fault, and that I won’t do the irresponsible thing of blaming other people for my actions. I wasn’t a child; I possessed the responsibility of shouldering all self - inflicted consequences. 

 

“Connor.” I made a move with my legs, attempting to slide off the bed and to Connor’s side. I was still hooked up, wires crawling from under my skin. Like lead, my legs hit the floor with a soft thud. The tiling felt cold under my feet. The sensation spooked me a little, but my foot soon was swept off the floor as Connor wrapped his hand around it. His hands felt cold, a little less so than the floor, but it sent vibrations throughout my leg as he helped be back on the bed. I must have looked like a helpless sheep, one that had wandered too far past the fence. Connor avoided making eye contact with me, instead focusing on folding my hands neatly on each other before pulling the blanket up to waist. 

 

“I’ve contacted Hank. He’s glad to know you’re awake, and healed, even though it’s hard to tell through his messages.” 

 

“Yeah, he’s still terrible at texting. Funny thing, right?” There were cracks in my voice. I hated how careful Connor was with the way he arranged my body, and how he moved like a ghost. It wasn’t until he stood up, back straight and professional, that he looked me in the eyes. “I’ll be back in the next 30 minutes with Hank.” His voice was faint, and dead, frightening in every way.  _ Don’t leave me. Not again. _ Once Connor stood up, I reached out for his hand, and grabbed it gently by the palm. His face remained placid as he turned around, but his LED started to glow yellow. 

 

“Be honest with me.”

 

“Am I not always honest with you, Y/N?” 

 

_ Normally, yes. But.. _  “You know it's not your fault, right?” I hoped that he could see the desperation in my eyes. But, to him, all he may see is the rush of blood chasing along my veins like cars on a freeway. All Connor did was shy away from the question, physically itching to gently break from my grasp. “Connor.” 

 

“I know what happened, Y/N, and I accept the reality of it.” He winced as he spoke. 

 

“And what type of answer is that?” My voice became like steel.

 

“The only type that matters right now.” 

 

“Connor, I know you’re-”

 

“I’d like to leave things as they are, if you please.” Though he tried to hide it, Connor’s words were tangled in a knot of distress. It felt as if he attempted to suppress the sorrow that had drilled into the core of his will. My grip began to loosen, a silent affirmation that he deserved the right to feel, and to feel conflict on his own terms. Even then, my finger hesitated before leaving his wrist. How I wanted to say that the fault was mine, and should  _ only _ be mine, but I know the consequences of caring too much. Whatever pain there is, it’s shared. 

 

Connor looked back down at me, and nodded with a shaky smile. So small, it was evanescent against the grainy, fluorescent light. 

 

“I love you, Connor.” I thought he couldn’t hear me, but he stopped and turned his head slightly in my direction. The blood under my ribs froze. I held my breath, feeling it draw in towards my chest and down past my lungs as my palms become sweaty. My eyes felt like they were being weighed down by stone, the skin creating folds around my eyes that pulled in opposite directions. Every time he raised his head, seemingly prepared to speak, it would drop back down. After shaking his head a few times, Connor held his head high, the words barely slipping from his lips.

 

“See you soon.”

 

_ Soon, huh?   _ Can't say I was expecting anything more eloquent from Connor. Not now, of all times. A wave of weakness washed over me, compelling me to slide down into the cushions of my bed as my nose narrowly grazed the sheets. My heart beats traveled throughout the blanket, and my nerves felt strained as my muscles stiffened against the mattress. I could feel the cracks spreading, a wide chasm splitting me open as I curled into a ball. Granted, with all the excessive wiring, I only managed to curl up to half the size of a ball.

 

_ Did Connor hate me _ ? Wonderful, I’m jumping to conclusions even while bound to a bed, illogical ones at that. I recounted the care took in tucking me into bed, the way he gently pronounced my name once he found out I was awake.  _ No, no.  _ Of course he didn’t hate me, he spent the past few days strapped to the side of my bed.  _ Is he.. Afraid of me? _ I shook my head, nappy hair brushing against the pillow. I was pained by the thought of Connor avoiding me, taking precautions to skirt any unrelated confrontations through Hank as a proxy. Closing my eyes, I thought back to  _ that _ night.  _ His lips were kind of cold. _ They were also gentle, sweet, and somewhat inexperienced, but they were perfect. The light stretching across the darkness of my bedroom is a memory burned forever into my mind. Peace, charming in how it found its way to me in the form of a robot learning to feel for the first time. 

  
  


I wish that same peace would visit me right now, as  I turned tirelessly in my bed sheets. Has it been 15 minutes yet? Even then, I couldn’t get a view of a clock. My eyes grew heavy, as they have at least five to seven times in the past few hours. Slowly, my heart began to slow as the hospital blurred out of view. A few blinks, and my eyelids were drawn back like curtains. Sleep was near, and it began to take me until I felt the phantom touch of warm fingers along my cheeks. Its caress was familiar, and comforting, like a long lost nursery rhyme playing on a music box. The skin was rough, like the leather of a worn wallet just dragging itself against my skin.    
  


“Kid… kid, hey.” Muddled, the voice sounded like an echo trying to pull me back to the surface. “It’s me.” I thought of the dim glow of a bedside lamp, the one from my childhood when it was bedtime. My muscles were relaxed, and my eyelids began to part at the center. “Jeez, Y/N’s still out.” Hank’s voice was a comforting growl, low, concern oozing from his words. I slowly came to, my eyes now fully open as they took in the fine wrinkles clumped around his mouth. 

 

“ _ Hey.” _ I smiled, albeit it was more of an unnoticeable grin, but Hank got the message. He breathed out a chuckle, his hand gripping and massaging my arm from the elbow down. 

 

“ _ Hey _ yourself. Don't go off like that again,  _ got it? _ ” Between a blend of dry sarcasm, and relief, Hank was the endearing father he must have been. I could feel the tears, the air building up in my chest as I tried to speak. 

 

“Keep me safe?” A tiny tear escaped my right eye. It proceeded to staining my scrubs. Hank laughed quietly, wiping away the tear with his index finger as he wiped the snot collecting under his nose. 

 

“ ‘Course, course. Just don't act like a little shit next time.” He looked back at Connor, motioning him over with his head; I think it's the light, but I could see Connor quickly wiping away at something on his face before marching over. His face switched off between a look of solemn placidity, and anguished concern. It was hard to keep eye contact, but relief struck me as Connor reached his hand out towards me. 

 

“If I have you two, it won’t happen again.” I took Connor’s hand, pushing my fingers into the spaces between his as he looked down at me, tenderly.  _ I love you, I love you so much.. _ If eyes could serve as letters, then mine were a telegram waxing poetic about the way the moon was envious of my lover’s eyes. However, the fantasy ended once Connor shyly pulled his hand back. 

_ Ok, too soon _ . 

 

Hank probably picked up on the energy, the thick anxiety in the room that was like a slime sliding down the glass walls of the barriers between Connor and I. He looked to and fro, like an alert bloodhound on the trail of something suspicious; and, indeed it was suspicious. But, he said nothing, and only focused on helping me get out of bed as he raised an eyebrow at Connor. Thinking that I wouldn't be able to see it, I noticed his lips seemingly mouth “what the fuck.” I broke the silence. 

 

“ _ So _ , you got any goods for me?” I rested on Hank's arm as he helped me sit up straight. No standing for me, until someone can get these goddamn plastic tubes off. 

 

“Ha, don't get ahead of yourself. I did the, uh,  _ honor _ of picking up some clothes for ya. And yeah, I got you some grub.” 

 

“Not Chicken Feed, please.” The words escaped me as my mind was on autopilot; Connor had to look away while stifling a chuckle. 

 

Hank, reaching out for an enormous plastic bag, had his hand hovering above the handle as he looked at me with the face of a dog caught digging through the garbage. His eyes widened, extending up beyond his forehead almost as he stammered repeatedly.

 

“I mean, uh, you got a  _ selection _ . Though sick people don't get to be picky.” I shrugged, smiling brightly as I watched Connor fix his jacket before hiding his smile behind his blazer. I felt some color come back to my cheeks.

 

“As long as it's anything, but jello, I'm sold!” 

 

That made Hank laugh, hearty and happy as he rubbed his hands before reaching into a canvas bag beside the plastic one. I recognized it from home, and realized that Hank probably had to rummage through a much too cluttered closet. “I’m no designer, but I got you something that fits on your  _ chest _ , and your  _ legs _ . I think that’s a win.” He plopped a monochrome outfit on the edge of the bed; I looked over to Hank, with much fondness, as he took on the appearance of a worried father. Carefully, much to the delight of Connor, Hank would place a carefully wrapped up, container of food. As I watched him line the bed with various options, surpringly ones that matched my dietary preferences, I quickly realized the makeup of the contents. 

 

“Wait, no way??” Hank and Connor, confused, looked up at me with fright in their eyes. 

 

“Y/N, is there something wrong?” Connor spoke up, startling Hank even more. 

 

“Ye-yeah kid, did I do something?” 

 

“No, the opposite actually.” I shook my head, as the glee was buzzing around the inside of my mind. “These are all the things I like to eat, how’d you know?” 

 

“Jeez, I’m not blind. And, y’know, Connor helped a little.” Hank scratched the skin along his eye, a smile quirking up as he looked up at Connor. 

 

“Sifting through thousands of search results on Google is easy work.” Properly, Connor crossed his hands as he returned Hank’s smile. They nodded slightly at each other, breaking away before looking up at me. 

 

“Guys.. guys, I love this. This is the  _ most _ anyone has done for me in so long..” I tried to push back the tears with my fingers, my chapped lips started to peel slightly at the edges from my stretched smile. Hank came over, placing his hand on my shoulder before coming in for a hug. 

 

“Don’t start getting spoiled.”

 

“It’s hard not to.” 

 

“Fine, I’ll let it go. Just this once though.” 

 

Once he stepped back, I looked to Connor. I hoped that he would take after Hank’s example, step forward and offer a quick hug to help remedy our situation, but he chose to keep his distance instead. His smile faded, and he began awkwardly pacing in place. Hank was unnerved, but more so annoyed.  As he stood, Hank pushed the stacks of food closer to me. Warm to the touch, I took one of the nearest bags onto my lap. It felt like static inside my mind as I dug for a fork.  _ Shit.. Hank went all the way. _ Already, I started to feel drained. I noticed how quiet the room had gone, the lack of whispered conversation had made me anxious, causing me to perk up.  _ Where’d they go??  _ As I leaned a little bit forward, I could make out Hank and Connor, shapes beyond the opaque window of the door. Slowly, I popped open the tupper ware lid, beads of condensation rolled off onto the blanket. I chewed, slowly, trying hard to listen to whatever had Hank so somber, and insistent as he brought Connor close to him. My heart started to race, the frantic beeping on the monitor coming back as I watched Connor hesitantly take a step back from Hank. He seemed lost, confused by Hank’s low brow glare. Was he in distress? I couldn’t tell with his LED out of sight. But then, quickly enough, Connor turned around and started marching the other way. 

 

_ Wait?? What the fuck? _ Someone, end me please. 

  
  
  
  


Just like that day at the office, it was just me and Hank, alone. Utterly,  _ utterly _ alone in a hospital room where I was strapped to the bed. He wasn’t the least predatory as he looked at me, pondering over the right words for dissecting these theatrics, but fear was already seeping into my veins. 

 

“How’s the food?” He crossed his arms, sitting back in the armchair beside me. 

 

“It-It’sh ghud.” I swallowed an entire mound of food, neglecting to chew as it roughly traveled down my throat. I kept my eyes down, looking only at the container of food in front of me. 

 

“What is it now?” He had to ask some time. 

 

I pushed the last bit of my food down, choking back thick chunks before turning to Hank. 

 

“If I'm being really honest, I don't know anymore.” I shook my head, a dark grimace hung on my face. “It-it's like he locked up on me earlier.”

 

“ _ Jesus _ . What'd he say?” Hank sprawled out his legs on the floor, leaning even further into the cushion. He seemed comfy, but also disgruntled, yet comfy. 

 

I lightly shrugged, disapproval and hurt in my eyes as I threw myself back against the bed. “He said, and I quote, ‘I know, I know it hurt.’” Hank raised an eyebrow, breathing in deeply with widened eyes as he listened with earnest. 

 

“Don’t ask me what the fuck that means,  _ I  _ don’t even get what’s going on right now. I’ve got wires plugged into me like I’m a phone, and I sweat just from thinking.”

 

“That’s what getting shot does to you.” If I’m not mistaken, I thought that Hank was trying to be funny in the most inappropriately dad way possible; turns out I was right, as I saw Hank return a hesitant smile. I glared at him, daggers seemingly darting out from my eyes and onto him like he was a pin cushion. He immediately regretted the joke, withdrawing into his coat as he let out a quick “sorry”. Still rough around the edges from his extended break from fatherhood; how can I blame him? 

 

“Yeah, it absolutely does.” I looked off to the side, my hands at my sides. Hank straightened out his back, and sat up as he leaned forward against his knees. “You know he cares about you, right?” 

 

“I do, sometimes.” Connor had a history of being rather flighty with his emotions, and with being inconsistent when backed into a corner. There were days where I grew tired of his flippancy, but I was quick to forgive. He was still learning, still coming into his own. 

 

“And what does that mean? You think he hates you, or somethin’?” 

 

“Hank. No. No, I don’t think he hates me.” Hank frowned, his lips pursed together. He rubbed his hands as I wrapped the blanket around me. I sighed against the fabric. “I just think he’s too  _ new _ to this.”

 

“Connor’s problem is that he thinks too much. He’ll have the perfect strategy sure, but it doesn’t mean dick shit when he doesn’t do anything about it.”  Hank rubbed the back of his head, tousling his hair in his fingers as he looked over towards the flowers; he slowly lowered his hand, leaning forward as if to get a clearer view of something. 

 

Hank got out of his seat, and walked over to the bouquets as he started adjusting the placement of the vases. I couldn’t see what he was handling, but I heard the shifting of paper against skin as Hank mumbled to himself. “Ya think Connor happened to leave something in here for ya?” 

 

“No clue, but I found them earlier.” I tried leaning forward, thinking it would give me a vantage point. Hank turned around, unfolding each note as he looked up at me with a clueless expression. “Mind reading some out loud for me?” 

 

Hank nodded to me, coughing to clear his throat. I raised my hands, throwing them back upon my legs as I tried to get cozy for Hank’s impromptu dramatic reading. “Y/N, I-” Abruptly, the reading ended as quickly as it began; Hank became flustered, his eyes expanding to the size of the moon as the skin tightened around his open lips. I was alarmed, struggling to prop myself up from my bed. “Something wrong?” Hank was lost, speechless and incoherent as I noticed someone was entering the room, another white figure wrapped in turquoise garbs. A nurse, with a empathic smile and gentle eyes, approached me as she began hooking the wiring.  _ Oh, come on. _

 

“Y/N, hi! I’m just getting you ready to head out for your discharge. Can I get you water, anything before you leave?” 

 

I shook my head, causing the nurse to nod to herself. “Great! So, on your way out, you’ll just need to sign some paperwork. I’ll be going over some prescriptions with you, so feel free to ask as many questions as you’d like!” 

 

I nodded again, only this time I looked over to Hank. The nurse caught on, and also quickly looked to Hank. “Sir, if you wouldn’t mind, I’ll need you to leave the room so that I may help Y/N get dressed. Did you happen to bring a change of clothes?” 

 

“Oh, oh yeah. Got it right here.” Hank fumbled, dropping his phone as he reached for my canvas bag.  _ Hope he packed some underwear _ . Kicking it over to me, he hurried out of the room. His sloppy exit caused the door to nearly fly off its hinges, until he reached out his hand 

 

_ Hank has his moments _ . 

  
  
  


After a lengthy changing session, a disclosure statement on pills that may or may not kill me if taken at the incorrect amount, and mountains of paperwork that rival that of Hank’s disciplinary record, I was out. 12:07 PM, and the sky looked like it was ready for another dark winter. Hank was drowning in a pile of bags, up until Connor magically appeared to help him out. It seems that Hank sent Connor out to wait in the lobby, but he’s been perched at the entrance since I got back on my feet. 

 

“Got everything?” I rubbed my eyes, my fingers frozen from the chilly air. 

 

“Shit, I hope so. Let’s see..” The bags spilled forth from Hank, and onto Connor. 

 

“I can do a quick assessment before we leave.” Carefully balancing all bags in one arm, Connor spoke to himself while making a mental note of the contents. 

 

I touched the skin along my face, taking in the ashy and dried negligence. My depth perception was completely shot, trees seemed to be jumping to and fro, and in front of each other. Suddenly, Hank clapped me on the shoulder, pushing me off to the other side of the entrance while Connor was busying himself with his tupperware count. 

 

Lost and dazed, I stared at Hank as he looked back over at Connor. Irked, I looked him up and down as I was eclipsed completely by his colossal frame. Without saying another word, Hank looked me in the eyes, an overpowering stare emanating from his eyes, as he took my hands and pressed a thick envelope onto them. On top of the envelope, Hank placed a black ring. It’s surface was like obsidian, glossy and naturally flawed in texture to the point of charm. The cryptic nature of this transaction eluded me, and left me in the dark far more than I already was. As I prepared to question Hank, my head cocked to the side, he took me by the shoulders and whispered in a low, rumbling tone. Something hit my gut, something in the form of a wrinkly and worn hand with a fat mound of paper clutched in its hands. 

 

“ _ Just open it. Read everything, and don’t stop _ .”  _ Ok?? But what does that mean??  _ But before I could say anything else, Hank spun around and walked back over to Connor. Hank started to push Connor along towards the car. Connor, looking like a puzzled puppy with his arms wrapped tightly around the mountain of spilled bags, was helplessly shoved into the passenger side of the car. A small bag helplessly fell off the pile, left on the side of the road until Hank fumbled over to grab it before returning to the car.  _ Fuck _ . Eerily puzzlingly, I also felt drawn to the contents of the envelope; it was somewhat thick, white and translucent, and it was sealed with a piece of tape. I remembered back to the hospital room, the stack of white papers hiding beneath the flower vases As for the ring, I decided to save it for further inspection later on, and slipped it into my pocket.  I peeked over my shoulder, Hank’s eyes met with mine as he waved his hand in a hurried motion.  _ What? _ He mouthed.   _ Alright, here I go, I guess _ . 

 

I slipped a finger under the tape, breaking the seal as I peeled back the upper fold of the envelope. Stuffed inside was a bundle of letters, perfectly folded four ways in a shade of off white.  _ How am I supposed to read all this shit? _ There must have been 10, no 12, maybe 20 letters at least? They were haphazardly tossed together, the corners bent around each letter. I pulled one from the pile, and my heart stopped; I remember this handwriting, the neat little scrawl that used to accompany my morning coffee. I’d see it from time to time, on loose napkins, stray pieces of paper that had practice phrases like “the quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog.”  _ Has he been practicing _ ? The script was tighter this time, gentle curls and twists accentuated each letter. 

 

“ _ Y/N. I hope you’re getting as much sleep as you can. You’ve never been one to get the rest you need, and after everything that’s happened, you deserve it.”  _

 

His prose was a bit clumsy and simple, but Connor was trying his best. I let out a desperate chuckle, covering my mouth as I looked back to Hank who was undoing nearly every bag that Connor had just finished organizing. Every time Connor tried looking back at me, his head was yanked back by Hank’s screaming. 

 

I nearly tore open the next letter, hoping that something longer, more substantial could be found. 

 

“ _ Y/N, now as I watch the snow fall and the weather grow colder, I remembered that Christmas is coming soon. So is Thanksgiving. If you don't have plans already, maybe we can arrange something with Hank. The occasion calls for a family meal, and gift giving, right?”  _

 

My heart was shaking with joy.  _ He wanted to celebrate the holidays, with me? _  The aching confines of my body were ready to burst, to heave more tears from my eyes but my body was too dehydrated. I ripped through more and more of the letters, flying through the bundle. 

 

“ _ I've been analyzing the works of Jane Austen. A common romance trope in the Regency era was writing letters to your significant other. I didn't get it, at first. Why do people feel the need to send messages, and then wait over long stretches of time to receive a reply? Why wait to see this significant other? And then, I realized how stupid and naive my reasoning was.”  _

 

I flipped over to the back, my breath catching in my chest as I snuck another peek over my shoulder.  _ I got some time.  _

 

_ “I realized it was stupid even though I'm sitting here, doing the exact same thing. You write letters not just to convey thoughts, but to transport feelings across time. ...I regret writing that now, because I’m starting to feel embarrassed. But, after letting the shame settle over the course of five minutes, and 32 seconds, I think the sentiment is authentic. I  _ _ am _ _ trying to reach out to you, to guide you home, because I miss you Y/N. I miss you, Hank misses you, and I think Sumo does too. You know what the crazy thing is? Even Detective Reed, of all people, sent you a bouquet (it’s the smallest one, you can’t miss it. I think some of the stems are broken in the center, but I guess it’s the thought that counts.)”  _

 

Why did I feel like crying? This was a good thing, a great thing, a very good GREAT thing. I was being so selfish earlier, my frustration was misdirected and I was wrong for even feeling that way when I should’ve understood the emotional turmoil that was clouding Connor’s judgement. How was he supposed to react when he still so firmly believes that it was his fault that I was shot, and nearly killed. Could he have been a bit clearer? Certainly! But did he have the full right to be honest about his feelings? Yes! A thousand times, yes! I should’ve known, this is the same person who I spent so many sleepless nights with, who I confided my most deeply hidden secrets to, and who  _ dared _ to love me regardless of my past and my future. I chose to love him, but I didn’t love him the way he deserved to  _ until now _ . 

 

So, where do we go from here? I watched the snow blend into the plush bed of the floor. The wind was blowing at my hair, separating it into strands that would gently caress my face. I thought back to the ring; how it was black, and satisfyingly heavy as it rested in my middle of my palm. Was Hank trying to tell me something? Maybe it was a nudge forward, a shove in the right direction? I stuck my hand into my pocket, feeling the the beveled edges of the ring as I looked up at the sky. I could feel the frost building around the corners of my lips, snowflakes littered my lower lip and my teeth as I tightly gripped the letters. I haven't finished reading them, but I didn’t need to learn anymore beyond what I already know.  _ Connor, I’ve never been more sure.  _ I breathed in, then out.  _ Those late nights, the coffee, the longing gazes,   _ As I turned, the snow flitted past my hair, layering my shoulders with powdered icicles as I gazed longingly at my future. There he was, drowning in a pile of bags that an older, and sincerely senile man was forcibly pushing on him. With each step I took, I felt a bounce of courage. My heart was steered in the right direction, moving like a boat with a predetermined location. I weaved the waters that frightened me so much before, reaching out with an open hand as I laid my hand on the car. 

 

“Hank, I'm sorry but I've already looked through this bag  _ three -” _

 

“Now it’s a fourth time.” Hank shook his head at Connor, his hand weighing down on the bags like a stack of lead. Searching for help, Connor looked around in a zigzag pattern as the pile kept growing. I tapped on the window. Connor nearly leapt onto Hank, staring at me silently as I pointed at the car handle. 

 

“Unlock the door!” Connor was slow to do it, but eventually the door swung free. I smiled brightly at Hank, mouthing a quiet “thank you.” Connor started to catch on as Hank grinned softly. 

 

“I have an idea. You guys got any plans?” 

 

Hank and connor simultaneously shook their heads. 

 

“No, but what did you have planned for today, Y/N?” The falling snow coasted a shade of white upon Connor's face as he looked up at me. My heart felt warm, full of newfound optimism. 

 

I nodded cheerfully, skipping over to Hank's side. Upon opening the door, I leaned into Hank's ear.

 

“Remember that place by the bridge?” Hank nodded. He knew the drive to that place like the back of his hand. It was immortalized, engraved in his psyche. Flashing me a cocky smile, Hank put the car into ignition. 

 

“Where are we going?” 

 

“Don't worry bout it.”

 

I gingerly slid into the backseat. Connor looked back, only to be met by my giddy, schoolgirl like demeanor as I was hopping up and down in my seat. The car went into reverse, and leaned forward as it started rolling along the road. I stretched out my legs, finally, for the first time in days, and rested my head against the window as I watched the terrain pass by. Hank started humming an old tune to himself, something aged that was probably played on repeat on his record player. Connor kept his eyes straight, his eyes wandering as he gazed at the snow that encircled the car. Peace, the perfect picture of it.   _ This is the right thing. It’s the right thing. I’m so sure of it. _

  
  
  
  


It didn’t take long to reach the bridge in question. The shallow waters were grey with a tint of blue, and there were patches of ice that had formed on the surface. I was in love with the aged playground, despite how melancholy its appearance was, but it was one of  _ the _ first places Hank and Connor showed me, together.  _ Not a single person in sight, awesome _ . I jumped out of the car, and skipped ahead as I leaned against Hank’s door, preventing him from leaving. Grouchy, and certainly confused, Hank let out a quick “what the fuck?” before retracting his hands and legs. 

 

I lowered my head to him again, much to Connor’s baffled terror. He hugged the pile of bags closer to his chest as he saw me whisper into Hank’s ear again. 

 

“I’m gonna take over from here, ok?” Hank’s eyes scanned the horizon, and then the playground as he tried to grasp my words; it eventually dawned on him. His grip on the door relaxed, his back no longer tense as he tucked himself back into the car. 

 

“Out.” He nodded his head in the direction of the bridge as he looked over at Connor. With speed of a whispery wraith, Connor was already out the car. Hank peeled out at frightening speeds without so much as moving to put his car into ignition and then reverse. 

 

“Would it be an unfair assumption that Hank won’t be joining us today?” Connor looked down, and then up at me as a sly grin crept up on his face. His hands were at his side, no longer rigid and clasped behind his back. 

 

I looked away, trying to hide my toothy smile. “You wouldn’t be wrong.  _ For once _ .”  _ No more shame. _ The fiery embers of confidence were lighting me ablaze; Connor, not so much. He kept to himself, immediately looking away and at the bridge as he paced in place. I walked towards him, slowly so as to not spook him. I held up a hand, just for him to take. 

 

“Connor?” He soon realized what I was doing, the offer that I had put on the table; or, he could just be assuming that this is another strange human custom that he hasn’t quite learned yet. 

 

“Yes, Y/N?” I looked down at my hand, and urged him as I leaned forward a little. My fingers were spread out, making a perfect bed for his hand. Doubtful, Connor’s raised his hand slowly, his gaze the softest shade of faltering shock. He was glowing, and he was tearing down my walls all over again. My rib cage’s grip around my heart tightened the longer it took for him to grab my hand.

 

One step forward, one step back, and then another two steps forward. He looked down at his hand, and then back at my smile that was trying so hard to reassure him.  _ It’s ok, I’m here darling. _

 

His fingers touched the skin of my palm before his thumb spread out along the outer contours of my hand; fingers spread, and then wrapped around my hands as Connor smiled up at me softly. I turned around, facing the bridge with a beaming smile and dazed eyes as I led Connor. We didn’t speak as we walked, hand in hand towards the bench nearest to the fence separating us from the shoreline, and the water. I played with the ring in my head as we watched the waves hit the rock walls. The wind was blowing as the leaves fell, hardly stirring as they hit the floor.  

 

After sitting still for so long, I could feel the cold settling into my bones. I looked over to Connor, just realizing the distance between us; a good foot apart, with our hands now on the bench. I squeezed the notes for further reassurance. It would be stupid to stop here, right? And so, I slid my hand over to Connor’s. He seemed so nervous, his LED was shining a bright yellow as he kept twiddling the quarter in his right hand. As I gripped his hand more tightly, while moving closer to him, Connor visibly jumped in his seat. 

 

“What’s got you so nervous?” I waited for an answer as Connor avoided making eye contact with me. 

 

“For once, I don’t know what to say or do in a social situation. Normally, I have a pre-installed script that gives me a scripted response, but I’m having... trouble finding it now.”

 

“So, for once, you’re having trouble finding the right words?”

 

“... _ yes. _ ” 

 

“Then, let me start.” 

 

His gaze was innocent, wide eyed like a young boy navigating the deep waters of love for the first time. I came closer, and held his hand between my own and rested them upon my lap. I moved the stray strands of hair in his face, clearing up his visage. Every wrinkle, each speck of refined flesh was immortalized within my mind. 

 

“I saw the notes you left me. Well, three or four of them. I can’t read that fast, I’m only human you know.” I let go of all the nervousness, the anxiety. Connor looked troubled, struggling to let go as he was visibly preparing himself for the worst. 

 

“The prose was sloppy, wasn’t it?” Consternation overtook Connor, his eyes ballooning to the size of two moons. He knew what I was talking about, the stack of notes that were oozing with rosy lamentations that would make even the most audacious of poets blush. He cringed at the thought of what were probably hours spent amassing his Valentine-esque collection. 

 

“No, I’m not here to critique your writing I swear. At least, not now of course. I’m saving that one for a later date.” I tried to ease him as I massaged the back of his hand. 

 

“Then, what did you want to talk about that’s so important, and  _ private _ from the looks of it?” 

 

I suddenly felt my tongue dry, a lump catching in my throat as I tried to organize my sentiments. Like puzzle pieces coming apart in the dozens, my thoughts were scattered completely. As I breathed in, clearing my conscience, I felt a sense of clarity overcome me. 

 

“I want to talk about how stupid I was, among other things…and, I hope you can.. Forgive me?” I squeezed Connor’s hand as I felt my lips purse in anxiety. 

 

“Y/N, what do I even need to forgive you for?” 

 

“For being stupid, didn’t I just say that?” I chuckled as I wiped away a tear. Connor attempted to wipe away my tear, but I stopped his hand. “I wasn’t compassionate, or empathetic at all. I actually felt  _ mad _ that you were torn up over how I got shot, I was being so unreasonable.” I wasn’t choking like I normally would. For once, the bitterness I felt towards myself was quiet, subtle at best. 

 

Connor’s voice started to waver, a disquieting quiver shook throughout as he tried to speak. “You had more than enough reason to be frustrated, Y/N. I was acting out of line, and I was projecting onto you.” 

 

“You weren’t, believe me, you weren’t. If being concerned means you’re projecting, it’s not your fault.” I pushed my hair back as the tears started to falling down my cheeks. 

 

I didn’t protest this time as Connor wiped away my tears; his smile was reassuring, glowing with bold hope. “Would you like to admit that we were both acting immature while trying to do the right thing then, Y/N?” 

 

I chuckled as the tears kept rippling along my skin. “I’m the biggest asshole by default, ok?” I put a finger up to Connor’s lips before he spoke. He closed his eyes, laughing loudly to himself as he grabbed my hand and kissed it. My cheeks become rosy, and my vision became soft and blurred around the edges as I watched his eyelashes fold down and out like paper fans. 

 

“I was CHILDISH! Are you kidding me? How are you not irritated?” 

 

“That’s the thing. You say you were being childish, but you acknowledge your wrongdoings. I’d consider that a mark of maturity.” 

 

“This.. really isn’t going the way I planned it to.” I laid my head down on his hands, my forehead warming his cold skin. 

 

“I’m sorry.” Connor, again, with the sincere eyes. 

 

“Stop apologizing!” Smiling when delivering a command made me look nearly insane I bet. Connor nodded after shaking his head slightly, an exasperated smile dawning on his lips as he looked me at with those shining eyes of his. He held his gaze, strong as he leaned in closely. Bubbles were welling up in my chest, my breathing turning shallow as Connor played with one of the loose hairs along my ear. It would tickle as his smooth fingertips moved along my jawline.

 

“This is a little bit better than apologizing...” 

 

“Good. Google taught me.” 

 

“ _How_ _romantic.”_ My face was burning, and my skin felt like icy scars were being drawn into it. I was getting addicted, and mesmerized by the sensations.

 

“Even better.” Connor left sweet impressions along the sides of my face. His lips trailed from my temples, down to my chin, and then finally my lips. 

“This is supposed to be attractive, yes?” 

 

_ Really….really???  _  “You're getting there.” I rolled my eyes, but that was really just a poor attempt to seem cool and distant. I think my heart was drilling a hole into my chest; it felt like it was ready to roll out and away like a stray marble. 

 

“According to what I can see, I already am.” I pulled back my head, nearly tearing it apart from the whiplash as Connor smiled coyly. In just a few seconds, the facade broke as Connor sighed deeply. 

 

“I have no idea what I'm doing here, as you can see. I did a comprehensive study on courtship while you were, well, indisposed.” 

 

“Just say dati-, ok, we're getting off track.” A fit of giggles caught between us as we held on to each other, fingers interlocked while the cold air slipped in and out of our lungs between falling laughter. 

 

“I apolo-, oh.” my eyes darted up, Connor holding his tongue as he took on the alert countenance of a spooked cat. 

 

“Now you’re learning!” I poked his nose. Connor’s laugh was delightful, and bubbly. 

 

“ _ Anyway-”  _ I got infected, giggling nonstop ing as I tried to keep a straight face. I held my breath, and patted my chest. The laughter slowly started to die down as Connor gained some composure. My chest still heaved with some laughter as I spoke.

 

“Jesus  _ Christ, _ I brought you here to talk about the notes, and I’m getting DISTRACTED.”

 

Just coming off of the synthetic high of my painkillers, the dizziness started returning to me. Connor took my head into his hands, his fingers rubbing along my temples as I shivered from the contact. 

 

“I’m sorry. Cold hands.” I could see the guilt in his eyes.  _ It’s not the cold, sweety. _

 

“But yeah, the notes… about that.” I shifted my head as Connor looked away, embarrassed and ashamed. The hesitation was apparent in his eyes, the fear of being honest at cost. I longed to cradle him, to smooth back his hair and assuage the turmoil running rampant under the skin.

 

“I did love them, Connor.” 

 

“3 out of 32 falls well below passing, Y/N.” 

 

Those words twisted like a knife in my gut. “What changed?” 

 

“Changed? What do you mean?” 

 

The wind was blowing harder, disturbing the leaves that had once laid still on the snow covered cement. I squinted in the biting wind, trying to gauge the doe eyed confusion on Connor's face. I laid a gentle kiss on the palm of his left hand.

 

“Why didn't you look at me the same way after the accident? It felt like you didn't see me, but a mistake.” The memory of that gray hospital room, devoid of any warmth made my blood pump faster. 

 

Connor flinched, his eyes fluttering like mad. “Y/N, I was guilty because of what happened. I was made, for one explicit purpose, and yet .. and yet, I  _ failed. _ It's like a defective product somehow going past quality control.”

 

“Connor, don't compare yourself to a vacuum.” The metaphor was ludicrous, but fitting.

 

“I’m just as useful as one, you have to admit.” 

 

“No, I don’t.” 

 

“Then you’re too kind, Y/N.” 

 

“Stop saying that, seriously.” All of the playful chiding started to wear down on Connor. I took my hands back into mine again, too tired and too inept to provide anymore comfort. 

 

We were wasting time, waiting for the next grandiose gesture to sweep us away and make our decisions for us. I had the notes clutched in one hand, and the ring in other. Both items were seemingly useless in this situation; however, they were only useless in a  _ relative _ sense. As the waters lapped up the rocky crust of the shore like white fingers, it dawned on me.  _ Hank, what were you trying to tell me?  _ I thought about that night we first met.  _ “What is he?”,  _ I remember thinking. Connor looked like a fresh start, a second chance to live the life that I thought had escaped me. Rooted in his eyes was a forgiving kindness, and a kindred spirit who was searching for me just as much as I was them.

 

Connor gave me a funny look as he saw the way my brows furrowed, and how I licked my lips.

 

“What’s on your mind, Y/N?”  Yes, perhaps I was being shallow. There was no way I would’ve known I had met my soulmate in less than five minutes of meeting them. Seeing someone as breathtaking as Connor probably impaired my judgement. 

 

“I’m just making sure this is perfect.” If life continues the way it has been for the past few months, with late night cases, family dinners at Hank’s place, and early morning hikes with Sumo, it will be perfect. I slipped the ring onto my finger. It was loose, wiggling around my finger as it got caught in the fleece interior of my pocket.  _ How did it take me this long to catch on?  _ Did I realize my own feelings under the cover of night, under the sheets of my bed as I struggled to sleep? Or was it during the lulls in the office, underneath the dim glow of the fluorescent lights? Maybe it was all of those fleeting moments combined. 

 

Connor eagerly waited for a response, anything. I walked into this, feeling so much confidence at my fingertips but I lingered on the chance that this would be a complete disaster.  _ But, he loves you. _ He does, or I hope he still does. 

 

“Do you love me, Connor?”

 

“ _ Yes, yes of course. Without a doubt.” _

 

_ Why am such a coward then? _ “Show me your hand, then.” 

 

Without hesitation this time, I watched as Connor held up his pale hands to me, his slender fingers extended outward. Out of shame, I quickly slipped the ring onto his hand. I hid behind the sleeve of my jacket, the blood coursing through my body as it slipped to and from my limbs. A fire had spread from my neck, and up into my face. 

 

“Y/N? Is this?” I tried to eat the fright crawling up, and out of my throat.

 

“ _ Well?? What do you think it is??”  _ My voice was quivering and shaking all over the place. I tried to lower my hands to get a better look at Connor, but no, my arms shot back up like an impenetrable fortress. I was aghast, fraught with the fear of God that was shaking my rib cage loose like a jar of change. 

 

“I understand it’s a ring, but I’m having trouble understanding the context?” 

 

_ Oh my god, you choose now to be clueless?? _ I rubbed my hands along my face, my eyes occasionally glancing and making the mistake of seeing Connor gaze at his hand with much curiosity. This man, this very expensive and technologically sophisticated man doesn’t have the faintest clue on the how-tos of social cues sometimes.

 

I decided to leave any trace of shame at the door, however. I found the courage I had before, I let it lit a flame in my chest as I got down on bended knee. I held my eyes, steady and stalwart as I watched Connor’s eyes widen; his fingers tightened as they nearly snapped the ring in half from sheer force. I felt the regret bubble up in my chest, the regret of never having had the bravery to let the words escape my lips. With Connor’s hands in mine, I professed. 

 

“Wanna do this?” 

 

“This?” 

 

“This. Forever. Long term.” 

 

“Y/N? Are you asking.. Asking me to..?”

 

“ _ Yes. _ ”

 

The words set off a dazzling smile, and an ungodly symphony of happy tears that ran like a deluge that started to drench my own cheeks as I was assaulted with sweet kisses. I could feel my spirit ascending, leaving my body behind as Connor held me so tightly in his arms. It felt like I was about to be crushed, and I would be alright with that. As he spun me around, I let out a breathy laugh and thanked my lucky stars for this moment. A milestone in time that I never would have envisioned even in the most perfect of dreams. I clutched Connor’s face as I kissed him again, and once more. I was once freezing, but now I am burning with delight. And just as I once freezing, I was once alone and I am now no longer alone. 

 

We stopped twisting and turning to take in the moment. The snow began to come in heavier as it covered us in a yuletide cloak. I held onto Connor, afraid I may lose him to the snow and whatever else was out to rip my joy from me.  _ Is this real? Is this really happening? _ I gripped Connor’s hand harder as I watched him stare up at the sky in amazement. I opened my mouth, and then closed it promptly. I let the snow fall, undisturbed in all its natural, pristine beauty as Connor held a hand up to the sky. It was like he was proudly displaying his new gift for all to see, and all I felt was pride. He’ll probably turn around and say “thank you, Y/N,” and then I’ll stop him before he can say it. 

 

I’ll be the one to say it: “thank you, Connor.” 

 


End file.
